Merlin's Resurrection
by Jennistar1
Summary: Arthur has waited. He knows how long he has waited, he knows the world has changed as he has waited, and he knows who he is. Merlin does not. Now Arthur has to find him, in a city that he barely understands, with the help of some frankly terrifying people, and help Merlin remember just who he is...
1. Release

Arthur was waiting.

He was standing on the shore of an island, staring out across the lake to the mainland, and he was waiting. He was unsure how long he had waited, but he knew it had been a long time. He had watched the trees grow and fall and die and be reborn. He had watched the dirt path beyond turn into a road, with hedges planted along it. He had watched as horses turned into strange metal contraptions in all various sizes. He had watched as strange buildings replaced forest. He had watched so many walk along that lakeside, in all various types of costumes.

Sometimes, he had watched Merlin. At first Merlin had come to the bank a lot and had stared across the water to Arthur's island, and cried. Afterwards he vanished for a while, then came back looking decades older and stared blankly across the lake instead. After that, the visits got rarer and Merlin got older and his stares grew dimmer. Every time Arthur wondered if it would be the last, but it never was. Merlin always came back, older than ever before, while the world around him changed. He always came back, but his visits became less and less common.

Near the end, Arthur regarded Merlin's visits as a special treat.

He had not moved from his spot, either to eat or sleep, because he did not need to. He was not mortal in the usual sense of the word. He was only there to wait, and feel his armour grow rusty around him.

And then, one day, after maybe centuries of waiting, a voice said in his ear, _Go home._

* * *

Merlin woke to darkness.

This was not uncommon. He had often woken at the strangest hours since Arthur's death, at first due to nightmares and then later due to an old man's needs to...well, to relieve himself. But this was different. This _hurt_.

Pain. Pain screaming through his head and then, as he awoke fully, spreading through his body, a full intense pain that even made his nails throb, a pain that left him paralysed in his bed but somehow..._released._

The pain stopped, leaving him gasping. He felt strange. Different. His bones did not ache like they had before.

He raised a hand to his face. The movement felt easier, his limbs lighter. He stared at his hand. It was no longer an old man's hand. It was not wrinkled or deformed in any way. It was young, the skin smooth. He flexed his fingers experimentally and found his arthritis had gone.

Adrenaline replaced pain. Merlin sat up quickly, and found that that was easier to do as well. The room around him was dark, but his eyes were getting used to the light, picking out objects around his tiny studio flat. He could hear the constant hum of traffic outside.

"Oh my god," Merlin said.

He swung his legs out of bed and attempted to stand. It was as easy as breathing. No pain, no aches. He felt like he'd just been let off a death sentence.

"Oh my _god,_" he said again, and stumbled to the light-switch, flicking the light on. The light burned his eyes, but he blinked and then found that his vision was actually better than it had been in years.

There was a mirror hanging on the wall over his sink. He rushed over to it and peered inside.

Merlin – the young Merlin, the Merlin of Arthur's day – peered back. He felt – and looked – totally flabbergasted.

"Oh my god," he said to his reflection, then turned his back and ran for his phone sitting on the kitchen counter.

She was on speed-dial. He pressed the button and listened to the phone ring.

It rang for a long time. Then she picked up.

"It is," she snarled, "Four o'clock in the morning. Whoever this is better have a good reason to call or I'm going tear off your balls and use themas _paperweights_."

"He's coming back," said Merlin. "Sarah, he's _coming back_."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Professor?" she asked. "Is that you? You sound...different."

"I'm younger," Merlin replied. His heart was still racing. "I'm _younger._"

Another pause. "And you think..." she said at last.

Merlin turned on his heel and started pacing the room. "It has to be," he said. "Why else would – it _has _to be."

Sarah spoke, and this time there was a hint of excitement in her voice. "I'll ring the others," she said. "Prof, we'll come with you – "

"No time," Merlin interrupted. "I have to go now. Avalon's still four hours drive from London, I've got to leave now if – Sarah, he – "

He sat down suddenly on his bed, his stomach suddenly dropping. "Arthur," he said, gasping. He hadn't said that name in a while. "Arthur – he..."

"Professor..." Sarah was starting to sound worried, but whatever she was going to say was cut off when there was a sudden knock on Merlin's door.

He stared at it.

"Who's that?" said Sarah's disembodied voice.

"Don't know," said Merlin.

The knock sounded again.

"Don't open it," said Sarah, suddenly alarmed.

"Pointless," Merlin replied. "I'll call you back." And he disconnected the line with Sarah still squawking protests.

Another knock. He stood up and gathered his magic inside him. It had been difficult to do when he was an old man, even painful at times. Now it was effortless.

He walked to the door and opened it.

Morgana stood on the other side. "Hello Emrys," she said, and smiled in victory.

* * *

There was a boat. Maybe it had always been there, but even so Arthur had never noticed it before. He got inside as easily as he could in rusted armour, and began rowing for his life, rowing back towards the mainland.

He had often imagined this moment. In all those imaginings, Merlin was there, sometimes the old man Arthur had seen before, sometimes young like Arthur had known him. Sometimes he'd laughed, sometimes he'd cried. But he'd always been here.

There was no one there now.

It was early dawn, the sky a light powdery blue, and a low mist was hanging over the lakeside, but even from across the lake, Arthur could see there was _no one there_.

"He's probably late," he said aloud to himself as he rowed. His voice was croaky with disuse, it hurt to talk. "It wouldn't be the first time. He's always late, he's the most useless manservant – "

And then he thought that Merlin probably wasn't his manservant after all, not in these times. There probably wasn't even a Camelot. He might not even be a king anymore.

He shut up and kept rowing.

The boat bumped against the bank and he got out. It should have felt like victory, but it didn't. Something was missing. Something was _missing._

There was a sign on the bank. He had watched it being put up, but it had always been too far away for him to read. He read it now. It said: _Nature Reserve – Protected Area of Importance. Funded by the Emrys Foundation (founded circa 1895)._

That, he thought, was why everyone had built roads and houses close by but had not touched the lakeside. Or his island. _Good old Merlin_, he thought.

"Merlin," he said aloud. "Where are you?"

Only early birdsong answered him.

* * *

He wandered down the road because he didn't know what else to do. He'd planned for a lot when he'd been waiting all those years, but not for this. In the past, Merlin had always been there for him, even when Arthur had thought he wasn't. Now where was he?

One of those strange creaky metal contraptions on wheels rattled past him, with crates and crates of some bottled white liquid inside it. The driver in a white hat gave him a long, odd look as he passed. He remembered he was in armour, rusty armour, and that people didn't really wear that sort of thing anymore.

"I'm going to kill Merlin," he said aloud, and did not voice his answering thought which was: _if someone hasn't done it already._

Eventually he reached a village, just as day was properly breaking. Villages in his memory were made of mud and straw. This one was all stone and brick.

There were some children playing with a ball in a little green as he clattered into it. They stared at him in open curiosity. One of them – a small thing in pigtails - said, "You look funny. Are you here for the fair?"

Arthur ground his teeth. "Sort of," he managed. "I don't suppose you know anyone called Merlin who lives here?"

The urchin gave him a blank stare.

Arthur racked his brains and tried again. "What about anyone called Emrys?"

An older boy nearby scratched his nose thoughtfully. "There's a Mr. Emrys up the hill," he said. "He sometimes visits. Lives in a shack. Old man."

"He gives us biscuits," chimed in Pigtails.

_Right, _thought Arthur with a vengeance. "Could you take me there?" he said.

* * *

They brought him to the front of Merlin's dwelling, then had to go back to get the bus to school. Arthur was left to loiter outside it alone. It was a small cottage, made of dark stone and surrounded by a weed-filled, overgrown garden. The house was in darkness.

Arthur marched up to the door and knocked on it. There was silence. He moved to knock again and accidentally nudged the door – and it opened.

He peeked inside. The cottage was tiny, basically one room, with a kitchen area at one end and some seating and bed in a corner at another. There were books and papers scattered everywhere, as well as many, many objects that Arthur could not divine the purpose of. The place was empty.

Arthur stepped inside. Everything was clean, if a little dusty. His armour was weighing him down, and he was starting to feel tired and more than a little confused. He sat at the wooden kitchen table and tried to think of a strategy. Opposite him there was a large, red book. He flicked through it. It was a series of dates – a beginning and an end date, and each of them had the word _No _written underneath in Merlin's terribly familiar handwriting. There were large gaps between each series of dates. Where had Merlin been? Where was he _now?_

His musings were interrupted by someone opening the door. He glanced up quickly, heart pounding, but instead of old Merlin, or young Merlin, or any kind of Merlin, there stood a woman, dressed all in black, with very spiky boots and more bits of metal in her face than Arthur had ever seen.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. Arthur stared right back. She had black, cropped hair tinted purple at the ends, and she had painted her lips black.

"Bloody hell," she said, taking in his appearance. "You're King Arthur."

Arthur straightened up. This was more like it. "Yes," he announced.

She nodded. "You look a right state," she said.

This was _less _like it. Arthur glared. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Why do you have so many face piercings? Are you a Saxon? What have you done with Merlin?"

The woman stared at him. "Jesus," she said. "The Prof was right when he said you don't make a good first impression."

Arthur set his jaw.

"I'm looking for the Professor," she continued.

"I'm looking for Merlin," he replied.

A ghost of a smile flickered across her face. "Same person, love," she said.

Arthur stared at her. The woman sighed and glanced around her. "Fancy a cup of tea?"

* * *

They sat on opposite sides of the table and drank tea. The tea, at least, was the same. It was growing lighter outside, and warmer, and Arthur's armour was now feeling very uncomfortable.

"He called me up," the strange woman said. "Two days ago. Rang me. He was - "

Arthur frowned. "Rang?"

She gave him a stare, disliking the interruption. "It's...sort of a device we use to talk to people far away," she said. "It's called a phone."

Arthur looked at her blankly.

"Wow," she said. "You're not going to understand _anything._"

Something squirmed deep inside Arthur, making his stomach clench. He stared down at his tea, suddenly lost for words. The woman cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Anyway," she continued. "He said something had happened. He'd grown young again. He thought this might be a sign you were returning. He said he was going to come here and find out. And then someone knocked on his door while he was talking to me and he rang off. I've heard nothing since. So I came here to see what was going on."

Arthur's stomach clenched harder. "He's vanished?" he asked.

The woman frowned. "I've got one of the others to go to his flat," she said. "They'll text me soon."

Arthur decided not to ask the obvious. Instead he said, "Others?"

The woman grinned. "Oh yeah," she said. "We're Merlin's Magicians. And my name's Sarah."

* * *

Sarah brewed a second cup of tea and Arthur went through the laborious process of shedding his armour. It was a very difficult business – some of the parts had melded together with rust – but he knew his armour like a second skin, so it didn't take long to sort out. When he removed it, he found his clothes underneath were very almost rotting off him.

"There's some spare clothes in the chest," Sarah said without turning around. "Your size – the Prof prepared for every eventuality."

Arthur sniffed. "Obviously not _every,_" he said, and peered inside said chest. There was a collection of clothes tucked inside. They were strange but not completely uncommon from those he had remembered. A top and trousers – just like before, just a stranger cut. He dressed quickly and efficiently. The clothes were light on his body, and well fitting, and he felt almost better now he had that armour off.

Sarah put the tea on the table, then flicked through the same red book sitting on the table that Arthur had. He glanced at her. "What is that anyway?" he asked.

"Well," she said, turning the pages. "Every time he sensed something, the smallest thing, he would come back here to see if you had appeared. And every time he recorded it in this book. Of course, it never was you. Most of the time it was probably just his imagination. Oh."

She had paused at a page. Arthur hurried over. "What?"

"The last entry," she said, and pointed.

It was the same collection of dates, but as well as the usual written _No_, Merlin had added a bit more.

_I could have sworn _it said, then broke off and started again. _It was very strong. A very strong feeling. But not him. What does this mean?_

There was something tucked inside the book – an envelope. Sarah plucked it out of the book. It said _Arthur _on the front. "Here," she said and handed it to him.

Arthur opened it, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat.

_Arthur, _[it said]

_In case I am not here, seek out my friends. Office block 34, 212 Shaftesbury Avenue, London. Get someone to help. Call Sarah – her number is 07553221556. Use someone's phone. Don't ask – just do what I say (for once). Sarah can be trusted, you have my word._

_I hope I will be here. If I am not, something is very wrong._

_If I am not...please find me, Arthur._

_M_

Arthur folded the letter back up. His hands were shaking slightly. "How long ago was that last date?" he asked.

Sarah glanced at the date. "Three years," she said.

Arthur nodded. "And how long," he said, not wanting to ask but at the same time desperate to know, "Have I been gone?"

There was a long pause. "One thousand, four hundred and nine years," she said at last.

* * *

They drank more tea than Arthur had ever drunk before. Arthur asked her inane questions about various things he had seen whilst on his island, and she answered them. She told him some more about technology. She told him what London was.

"It's kind of a big Camelot," she said. "But with less horses. And certainly no knights, that's for sure. More like a bunch of male _bastards_."

Arthur nodded, only half understanding what she was talking about. "Are there lots of," he tried the word out. "_Cars_?"

"Lots," she said. "And trains, and planes."

"The metal dragon things with wings?" he remembered.

Sarah grinned. "Sort of," she said.

"And," Arthur asked, "What are Merlin's Magicians?"

Sarah's grin faded a little. She fidgeted nervously, which she only did when she had to be serious. "Magic," she said. "Is not what it was."

"It's banned?" Arthur asked. He didn't like talking about magic. He didn't want to think about those last moments with Merlin. He'd done that for one thousand, four hundred and nine years.

"Worse," Sarah said. "It's forgotten."

Arthur stared.

"No one thinks it exists anymore," she said. "It's moved down into folklore. A bit like the legend of you, actually. Science has replaced it. But there's a group of us in London – Merlin's Magicians we call ourselves, but we're formally called the Emrys Foundation. It looks after people with some magical ability. Merlin finds us. He found all of us. He brings us together and educates us and helps us, and tells us that we're not freaks. He's...well, Merlin's amazing."

The lump in Arthur's throat rose again. "I know," he managed.

When it became evening, Sarah scared Arthur with the electric light, explained it to him, then cooked quite a good dinner.

The others texted her to tell her that Merlin's London flat was empty.

Merlin did not appear.

* * *

They settled down to sleep. Sarah demanded that Arthur take the bed and Arthur demanded that she take it while he had the sofa, and they had a brief argument that resulted in her snapping, "I ain't some damsel in distress, mate, piss off," and taking the sofa.

Arthur had to admit, the bed was just what he needed. He was utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally. But he was also worrying, and couldn't drop off.

He lay in the darkness for a while. "Are you asleep?" he asked at last.

There was a mumble from the sofa. "You really are a prat," Sarah grunted.

Arthur grinned to himself. "What are we going to do?" he asked.

Sarah sighed. "Go back to London," she said. "Go to Merlin's Magicians HQ and get help. There's ways we can find the Prof there." There was a pause. "We can take the train," she added wickedly.

Arthur nodded. "How long?" he said, "How long did Camelot last?"

Sarah was silent for a moment. "Not long," she said finally.

Arthur nodded again, though he knew she couldn't see him. His fingers were twisted up in his blankets painfully.

"You were the best of it, Arthur," Sarah murmured.

There was silence after that.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, in a modern, two-bedroomed flat in North London, clumsy, dark-haired, 'slightly weird but in a sweet way' telemarketer Martin Earlton woke up suddenly.

He had just had the strangest dream.


	2. Progress

**A/N: Fun fact, readers - the print shop I mention was a terrible place I was unfairly fired from about a year ago. Petty revenge is the sweetest revenge!  
**

**Hope you like this chapter, thank you for the likes and reviews :)**

* * *

_Hundreds of miles away, in a modern, two-bedroomed flat in North London, clumsy, dark-haired, 'slightly weird but in a sweet way' telemarketer Martin Earlton woke up suddenly._

_He had just had the strangest dream._

* * *

Martin was on his third coffee when day broke and his housemate finally entered the kitchen. Her name was Morgan, she was all legs and long dark hair, and was a model well on her way to becoming a supermodel. They'd known each other since forever, though Martin could never quite recall how he had ended up having her as a flatmate.

"Morning, Marty," she said cheerily. There - two things already wrong with her, she called him 'Marty' and she was a morning person. "What the hell are you doing up?"

Martin was well known for sleeping in until the very last moment. He was incurably lazy. This was probably why he was still working for one of Vodafone's many call centres, cold-calling what felt like every hour of the day.

He shrugged and sipped his coffee. It was getting cold. "I had a weird dream."

Morgan grabbed her box of cereal. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He couldn't explain it, even now. It was just…images. What had been more gripping was the emotions that went with them, a tangle of pride, loss and hope. He said aloud, "There were cloaks. Red ones." They had been important for some reason, terribly important.

Morgan snorted, emptying the cereal into a bowl. She always ate so much, Martin couldn't work out how she stayed so skinny. "Sounds thrilling," she said. "You going to work today?"

"After my fourth coffee," he said.

"Need to stay awake for Arnold," she said, and winked.

Martin rolled his eyes. He seriously regretted having that last glass of wine on the Saturday before and drunkenly telling her about Arnold. "Nah. Gone off him I think."

"What?" she seemed genuinely upset. "But he's got everything you want! Muscley, blond…"

Martin shrugged. He couldn't even understand it himself. "There's just something," he mumbled.

Morgan snorted again, pouring milk into her cereal. "You're in a weird mood today," she said, and with that barely insult she left for her room, bowl in hand.

Martin stood up and turned the kettle back on. He felt strangely at odds with himself, yet more energised than he had been in a while.

It was as if a part of him had just woken up.

* * *

"This is amazing." Arthur was not quite climbing around on his seat, but it was a close thing. Certainly his nose was pressed to the train window. "Look at how fast we're going! It's like galloping on a horse without the saddle sores! How does it work? Is it magic?"

Sarah sat across him and rolled her eyes. She was busy painting her nails blank and sharpening them into points with a nail file. "It's not magic," she said. "But I have no idea how the fuck it works. It's a fucking train. Now make yourself useful and get some food." She nodded over to her purse. "There's a café in the next few carriages along."

Arthur did not need to be asked twice to explore. He grabbed the purse and went.

The train rattled and swayed in an unfamiliar way, but he had kept his excellent sense of balance from his training as a knight and it hardly bothered him. He wondered if Merlin had ever been on a train - Sarah said he had one of those cars, but he couldn't imagine Merlin not trying the train at least once. He'd probably fallen over a lot.

Had he tried a train? Or those - what had Sarah called them - _planes? _Had Merlin travelled the world? Where had he gone, what had he seen? There were so many things Arthur wanted to ask him…

He wanted to ask Merlin about Camelot. He wanted to ask how it had fallen. He wanted to ask about the knights, about his friends. About Gwen. He could not ask Sarah these things. He needed someone familiar. He needed Merlin.

The food at the little train café was not entirely foreign, though he had no idea what 'crisps' were. He bought a packet of cheese and onion with the rest of his order just to try them out and returned to Sarah. She was texting furiously with one finished hand and leaving the other to dry.

"The others are going mental," she said cheerfully. "They all wish they'd met you with me. Donald's so jealous. He's a massive King Arthur fan."

Arthur opened the bag of crisps and cautiously put one in his mouth. And squeaked.

Sarah glanced up at him. "What?"

Arthur crunched the crisp and swallowed it. "These," he said, "Are _amazing._"

Sarah grinned. "Fucking Arthur Pendragon," she said, and opened her pack of sandwiches.

* * *

Martin propped his weary head on his hand and switched to the next number on his control display.

"Good morning, sir," he started, "Can I just take five minutes out of your busy schedule to talk to you about some of Vodafone's new and exciting - "

The line disconnected. Martin stuck out his tongue at the non-flashing light. "And fuck you too," he said.

He moved to go to the next number, and then an image from his dream came suddenly into his mind, so bright and stark that his hand came to a forced stop in mid air.

He could see a round table. It was sat inside a large, long, beautifully decorated hall. And there was someone there, someone beside him, someone warm and familiar and barely a hand's breadth away -

His mobile (definitely _not _Vodafone) vibrated on the tabletop, jolting him out of reverie. He glanced at it. It was text from Morgana.

_So bored. Photographer knows not what he does. Drinks tonight? Morgie x_

Smirking, he tapped out a reply.

_Very much a plan. Gorgeous Arnold no longer gorgeous. Damage control! M x_

When he put the phone down, he couldn't remember what he'd been thinking about.

He moved back to his display, and put his brightest voice back on.

"Good morning, sir. Can I just take five minutes…"

* * *

They reached London by early evening and Sarah immediately dragged Arthur out of Waterloo to the River Thames. It was not far from the station, but it took longer, because Arthur kept grinding to a halt and staring at things like he had come from the darkest depths of the countryside. By the time they got to the river, Sarah was thoroughly embarrassed.

Arthur shut up when they got there though. They looked across to Victoria Embankment in relative peace, listening to the Thames lap and slide gently against the edges of the walkway. Boats spilled along the water, people rushed behind them, there were voices, and music, and everywhere the sound of life.

"You're right," said Arthur after a while. "It is a little like Camelot. All that energy, all those people. And you say this is the capital of Albion?"

Sarah half smiled. "We call it England now, love. But yeah. It's the capital. I was born here."

Arthur nodded. "Of course Merlin would come here," he said.

Sarah glanced at him. "He didn't forget you," she said. "He was always thinking of you."

Arthur swallowed. "He rarely visited," he replied. "He came less and less as time went on."

"He had things to do," Sarah snapped. "What, you just expected him to wait around for you?"

Arthur stared at the Thames for a long time. "I did," he said.

There was another long silence. Life rushed around them, but still the soughing of the Thames could be heard under it, and the call of the birds. Still the sound of nature, still the feeling of wildness, under all the thundering of humanity.

"He's still here," Arthur continued finally. "In the city. I'm sure of it." He had never been more certain of anything; Merlin was here, he was close.

Sarah simply nodded. "In that case," she said, "We should probably hurry up and find him."

* * *

The place Sarah walked them to was, by the look of it, a print shop, near an intersection of road close to Tottenham Court Road. It was busy and loud and it had taken a while to walk there, but Sarah had refused to let Arthur go on what she called the 'tube', claiming she wouldn't be able to put up with his constant questions. But they made it eventually.

Arthur wrinkled his nose amongst the traffic and the people, staring at the rather unprepossessing print shop huddled next to a theatre like a sulky interloper. "This doesn't look like any sort of meeting place."

"Nah," said Sarah. "Looks like a crappy print shop. Which it is. On the outside." And then she winked at Arthur and led him around the side of the building. There was a small door stuck in the wall. She pushed at it and beckoned Arthur through.

They walked into a place that looked absolutely nothing like the print shop. It was one large room, with large, white walls covered in strange symbols, a collection of sofas and beanbags in one room and several desks covered with strange looking equipment. There was also a huge bookshelf, stacked with threadbare books.

And inside the room were four of the most mismatched people Arthur had ever seen. A very old woman with long white hair was sitting next to skinhead in a leather jacket, having tea. A middle-aged man with a moustache was flicking through a book and there was a young boy of perhaps ten playing a flashing game on one of the machines.

"Hey kids," Sarah said, striding in. "Look who I found wandering the streets."

Immediately everyone froze in what they were doing and swivelled to the door in a kind of synchronised movement that made Arthur take a small, instinctive step back.

"Oh my god," said the middle-aged man with the moustache. "Oh my god, it's _him_."

"He looks kind of scruffy," said the young boy, but the man was already standing and approaching Arthur with a slightly terrifying look in his eyes, as if he was about to lay his hands on a huge pile of unprotected gold. Arthur had faced trains and lightbulbs, even enormous cities, but for the first time since he'd left his island, he wished he had his sword with him.

Sarah stepped sharply forward, protecting him. "Back off, Donald," she snapped. "There's time for questions later. We've got things to do." She glanced around the strange looking gathering and raised her voice. "The Professor's vanished. We need to find him."

* * *

They sat around on the sofas in a circle and Sarah named each of them to Arthur as if they were all children at a party.

"This is Donald," she said, pointing first to the moustached man. "He's really into his conspiracy theories and myths and legends and things, so he will try and back you in a corner and chew your ear off at some point." She noticed Arthur's eyes widen fractionally and added, "That's...it's just a turn of phrase, Arthur. Anyway, Donald's magical ability is being able to stifle other people's magic. Only temporarily and it depends on the strength of the other person's magic, but he's improving. He couldn't even touch the Prof's magic at first, but he's learnt to make quite a dent in it now."

"My greetings," Arthur said as politely as he could to Donald, then cursed the absent Merlin for teaching him manners.

Donald stared at him with wet, wide eyes for a long time, and then croaked, "Hello."

Sarah rolled her eyes and turned to the skinhead. "This is Turk. He's from Texas, that's, erm...let's just say that's another kingdom quite far from here. He likes fast cars, food and women. And he can make visible things invisible or hide them in different ways - that's how we got this place." She turned to the young boy. "This is Dan. He can make anyone without magic obey any commands he gives. He's the most recent of our finds – the Prof was tracking him down for months."

The boy grinned, slightly unpleasantly. "I kept making people forget they'd seen me."

Arthur did not smile back. He was tired, and irritable, and was getting annoyed with the way they were all staring at him, as if he were a dog about to do a trick. "None of this," he said, "Is helping me find Merlin."

Donald blinked, immediately alerted. "You call him Merlin," he said.

Arthur glared. "Of course I do, what else would I call him?"

His sniping was rewarded with an even more intense look. "There is a school of thought that believed you called him Emrys."

"That's his Druid name, I wouldn't call him that." Arthur rubbed his head – he could feel a headache coming on. "Surely Merlin would have told you these things?"

"He wouldn't tell me," Donald said, a sour note to his voice, slumping slightly in his chair. "He'd hardly talk about you at all, actually."

Arthur's chest suddenly hurt, as if an arrow had been driven into it. He hastily blinked the pain away but Sarah obviously saw, because she snapped, "Donald, shut up," at the man, and regained control of the conversation.

"Anyway," she said, gesturing to the elderly woman, "This is Jocelyn. Mother of two, grandmother of one, sings in her local church, and just so happens to have magic like the rest of us. And her special talent is locating others with magic."

Arthur blinked, then glanced up at Sarah. Sarah winked at him. "Exactly," she said.

"I can't do it now," Jocelyn said, though she smiled at Arthur apologetically. "I've got to have all the equipment with me, plus I need rest."

"Then we'll do it tomorrow," said Turk decisively.

Sarah nodded. "I agree – tomorrow. We don't know what's happened to the Prof, but it could be something bad. The sooner the better."

Arthur blinked, but he too was feeling tired and drained, still not quite recovered from leaving the island. "I have nowhere to stay," he said, and realised, with a sudden pang, that he was actually homeless. Camelot was not...Camelot was _gone._

Everyone was gone. Everything was gone. His entire life, he had fought for that place, that world and now it was just...

He felt suddenly and deeply lost. As if this had been some huge mistake. As if he shouldn't be here, in this world, at all.

"You can stay at the Prof's flat," Sarah was saying. "It's not far from here and it's not like he's using it."

Arthur nodded, but he was barely listening.

* * *

He felt better when he and Sarah got to Merlin's flat. It was tiny but neat. Merlin had never really needed much space – he had always clung to his old room in Gaius's, even when Arthur became king and it was within his rights as manservant to the king to have a nicer room closer by. But he had protested against it, saying that he still had much to learn from Gaius in the skills of being a physician, and Arthur, knowing that in truth Merlin didn't want to leave Gaius alone, dropped the subject and never brought it up again. Anyway, Merlin had always liked small rooms – he'd said it meant he was forced to keep the place tidy or be doomed to lose absolutely everything – and this was certainly small.

It was what Sarah called a 'studio flat', with no separate bedroom and only a separate bathroom. There was a kitchen in one corner, a small sofa in another, a dining table in the centre and the double bed shoved under eaves so low that Merlin must have banged his head on them once or twice in the mornings. The image of it made Arthur smile, and then miss Merlin so hard that it was difficult to breathe for a moment.

Sarah gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Shall I cook some dinner?" she asked.

* * *

She cooked what she called 'pasta bolognese'. It sounded suspiciously foreign to Arthur, but he actually quite enjoyed it. They ate in silence; the window was open and they could hear the many, many cars rushing by, the noise never stopping. It was not entirely uncommon to the sounds that Arthur had sometimes heard from his window in Camelot, the same clattering and clunking, the same murmur of voices as people passed. It was sort of comforting. He wondered if Merlin had found it comforting as well.

* * *

When Sarah was washing up afterwards, she suddenly said, "He never stopped thinking about you, you know."

Arthur had been flicking through Merlin's well thumbed collections of books. There were some very old ones mixed up with some very new ones, though he didn't recognise any of the titles. Not one of them was about the 'legend' of King Arthur.

"You talk about him as if he is dead," he replied, for something to say.

Sarah frowned. "I don't mean to," she said. "I'm sure he's fine. I just. I mean, I just thought you should know. Just because he didn't speak about you doesn't mean he didn't think about you. You could tell when he did. He got this daft look on his face."

Arthur smiled to himself. "The clotpole look," he said.

Sarah frowned at him. "What?"

Arthur remembered that no one would know what he meant by this. There was no one left who understood the joke. And if they didn't find Merlin, there never would be. He shrugged. "Nothing," he said. He straightened up from the low bookcase, and was struck with a slight dizziness.

"Oh," he said, a bit faintly. "I must be tired." It hadn't properly hit him until now, his exhaustion. He sat gently on the bed.

Sarah finished the washing up and patted him on the shoulder again. "I'll go and leave you in peace. I don't live far away, if you need anything you can just call – " She caught the expression on Arthur's face and grinned. "Maybe not," she said. "Never mind. Any problems, go to the crappy print shop HQ, I've magicked it so the door won't be locked for you."

Arthur rubbed his eyes. "And we'll find Merlin tomorrow."

Her hand squeezed his shoulder. "Tomorrow," she promised. She grinned at him and grabbed her bag. "See you in the morning – try not to get scared of the toilet."

Arthur's eyes widened. "The what?" he asked, but Sarah just winked and left him alone.

* * *

It was the first time he had been alone – properly alone – since he had left the island. It occurred to him that he should feel frightened, but he couldn't quite do it. Not while he was in Merlin's room, surrounded by Merlin's personal effects. Merlin had been here, and he was still somewhere close. Arthur couldn't be alone as long as Merlin was there.

He closed his eyes and listening to the noises rumbling on outside, and tried not to think about how far he had come. "I'm right here, Merlin," he said aloud.

No one answered him, but he hadn't expected them to.

* * *

Several miles away, Martin spilled his fresh glass of wine all over the beautifully polished counter of their favourite local bar. Morgan flinched her own drink away. "Watch out Marty!" she yowled.

"Crap," Martin said, dabbing at the wine with paper napkins. "Crap, crap, crap. Sorry," he said to the resigned bar staff now clearing up for him.

Morgan gave him a sideways look and sipped her mojito. "Are you all right?" she asked gently.

"What?" Martin said. "Yes. Yeah, I'm fine."

This wasn't true.

He could have sworn he'd heard someone whisper his name.


	3. Discovery

**A/N: Greetings mortals. Next chapter is here - with the (sort of!) return of Merlin! Enjoy and thank you for all your reviews, I want to look you all deep in the eyes and whisper sweet nothings to you.  
**

* * *

_Morgan gave him a sideways look and sipped her mojito. "Are you all right?" she asked gently._

_"What?" Martin said. "Yes. Yeah, I'm fine."_

_This wasn't true._

_He could have sworn he'd heard someone whisper his name._

* * *

Arthur woke to the sound of pigeons cooing nearby. For a minute, he was so sure he was back in Camelot that when he opened his eyes and found himself staring at Merlin's studio flat ceiling, he was momentarily confused. Then he blinked, and remembered everything, and the feeling passed.

He sat up and promptly hit his head on the ceiling.

"Yeowch!" He cringed and rubbed his head, glaring at the eaves. Only Merlin would put his bed in a place where you would maim yourself getting out of it.

There were still pigeons cooing. He slipped out of the bed carefully and went to investigate.

There was a balcony outside the window which Arthur had not noticed before. A line of pigeons were sitting outside it, glaring at him. There was a sack of bird food sitting on the windowsill. Arthur was suddenly reminded of how Merlin used to feed birds out of Arthur's bedroom window, until they had started waking him up and he had forbidden Merlin to do it again. Merlin had pouted, sulked, then continued doing it anyway.

Some things, Arthur thought with hope, never change.

He grabbed a handful of bird food and opened the window, throwing it out to the pigeons below.

For luck.

* * *

When Sarah came to pick him up, he was shaking a box of cereal by his ear distrustfully. She rolled her eyes.

"Well, at least you survived the night," she said. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

"We're going to get the tube today," Sarah said as they walked along the road. It was a sunny day, and everything seemed brighter than it had the day before; Arthur couldn't help himself turning around occasionally, trying to take everything in, and it was only Sarah forcibly pulling his arm that kept them going. "You might as well learn sooner rather than later," Sarah continued. "Think you can handle it?"

Arthur shot her a look. "I've faced dragons," he said. "I've faced whole armies and legions of the undead. Nothing in this world can frighten me."

"The light bulb scared you," Sarah pointed out, but she was smiling.

* * *

Going underground was a little unnerving, but it was lit, unlike quite a lot of caves Arthur had been in in the past, so he soon got over it. Escalators were just pure fun. When they arrived on the platform, the doors of the train were just closing, but Sarah threw out a casual hand and they halted just long enough for her and Arthur to scramble aboard.

Arthur shot her a filthy look when the doors finally closed. She flashed him an innocent smile. "I can control machinery," she said casually. "And, you know. Doors and things."

"So I see," Arthur said archly.

The train started up. "You'll want to hold onto one of the poles," Sarah said, looking away and holding onto a blue one as she spoke. "For balance."

Arthur snorted and crossed his arms. "I'm a knight," he told her. "I can jump onto a running horse's back. I can leap across burning wreckage in full armour. I have perfect balance."

The train jerked into action. Arthur stumbled backwards, very almost colliding with the old man standing behind him, and only just saved himself from falling on his arse by clinging desperately to one of the blue poles.

Sarah winked down at him. "So I see," she echoed.

* * *

They emerged into the daylight relatively unscathed, though Arthur had adopted a new hatred of the tube and loudly spent the journey proclaiming that he would never ride on one again. A few people, mistaking this for hatred of high tube fees, politely listened and then applauded him - much to his bafflement. By the time they reached the crappy print shop, Sarah was nearing the end of her tether.

The atmosphere when they finally got inside their disguised HQ, however, was enough to knock them both out of their bad moods. On one of the tables a large crystal globe was set up, and around it sat the rest of Merlin's Magicians; moustached Donald and skinhead Turk were flipping through old books, ten-year-old Dan was tapping on what Sarah had called a 'computer' and Jocelyn was focusing intently on the swirling clouds inside the globe.

Arthur halted at the threshold, staring at the globe. The rest glanced up at him.

"And so the king returns," Turk said dryly.

Jocelyn flashed Arthur a small smile. "It's just a crystal ball," she said. "Nothing to be afraid of."

Arthur stayed resolutely on the threshold. "I know what it is," he replied, and his voice sounded colder than he had meant it to. "They had them in Camelot. Those with sorcery used them to attack us."

There was an uncomfortable silence. "We're not like them," Donald said at last.

Arthur shook his head, suddenly wanting to run as fast as possible out of the building. He had not considered until now that this mismatched group of people _really _had magic. They seemed so _innocent. _And magicians were dangerous, and evil, and corrupt, and he couldn't -

He took a step back. "You don't understand," he said. "The things I have seen magic do - the people who wield magic - "

"As in save your life, you mean?" Donald retorted. "Like the Professor did? Or save your kingdom? _Repeatedly_."

"No," Arthur protested, "No, I didn't mean - "

"You know, I could just _make_ him not care," Dan drawled lazily from his chair, swinging his legs in the air. "He hasn't got any magic, I can affect him. A few words from me and he would _love _magic."

He sneered over at Arthur. Arthur flinched away, and Sarah tutted and put her hands on her hips.

"Stop it, Dan, you're not helping," she snapped. "And Arthur, come back in."

"This was clearly a big mistake," Arthur retorted, drawing away.

"No," Sarah said. "No - Arthur, we're friends of the Prof - we're friends of Merlin, he trusted us, you can trust us, you know that."

Arthur remembered, suddenly, Merlin's letter, his painfully familiar scrawl flashing before him.

Jocelyn said gently, "Arthur, I am going to find the Professor. You want to find him, well so do we. He's our guide."

"And our teacher," said Donald.

"And our friend," Turk finished.

"Come on," Sarah coaxed, holding out a hand. "Arthur, come on."

Arthur hesitated, then reached forward and took her hand.

* * *

They gathered around the crystal ball.

"Now," Jocelyn said. "I can filter through all the magical beings I find, but I will need the support of you all to help me. Will you share your power with me?"

The other four magicians nodded, and simultaneously reached forward and placed a hand on the ball. It glowed under their touch. Arthur stared at them all.

"How can you do that?" he asked. "Share magic?"

"Something the Prof taught us," Sarah said. "Something he learnt not long ago. Equality and all that."

"We're kind of like a new round table," Donald said, and smiled at the startled look at Arthur's face.

"Arthur, I need your help too," Jocelyn said.

Arthur frowned. "I don't have magic."

"I know," Jocelyn said, "But you do know Merlin. I need that familiarity, that closeness."

Arthur eyed the ball. "I don't know how to," he said.

"Just put your hand on it and think of Merlin," Jocelyn said. "Concentrate on what you remember of him, everything you know of him."

Arthur hesitated again, but he couldn't go back now. He reached forward and touched the globe. The glass was slippery under his fingertips. It glowed gently, and then even more when Jocelyn touched it.

"Focus," she told them all.

Arthur closed his eyes and focused.

He thought of Merlin - _his _Merlin, the young Merlin. He thought of red neckerchiefs, and astounding clumsiness, and ridiculous ears, and a smile that could outshine the sun. He remembered the expression on Merlin's face as he died, remembered the feel of Merlin's arms around him. He remembered how Merlin had shouted him back to life for a second, a mere second, and then it had slipped away from him again, how the fog had closed in on him, how Merlin's face had slowly dissipated into that fog, despite Arthur's best efforts, despite all they had tried, everything had left him, it had separated them -

"Got him," said Jocelyn.

Arthur opened his eyes. There was now a little speck of pulsating light in the centre of the globe. It looked like nothing to Arthur, but Jocelyn was watching it intently. "It's definitely him," she said. "Alive and well."

Something settled in Arthur's stomach that he hadn't been aware was troubling him until now. But then Jocelyn frowned. "There's something wrong," she said. "Something…it _is him…_but it's as if his power is veiled or something."

"What do you mean?" asked Sarah, sounding worried.

"Well, usually the Professor's magic is very strong and very bright," Jocelyn said. "Unsurprising, considering how powerful and old he is, but…well, now it's dimmed. Like something is covering it."

Arthur glanced at the others, they all looked nervous, strained in the light of the globe. "Do you know where he is?" he asked.

Jocelyn focused harder. "That can't be right," she said. "No - but _yes_, it is - "

Arthur's hand started tingling, his heart thumping. "_Where?_" he demanded.

Jocelyn glanced up at him. "Close," she said. "He is very close."

Arthur stared at her. "Tell me where."

"By the Thames," she replied. "Right by the Thames."

Arthur snatched his hand away from the globe and leapt to his feet.

"Arthur, wait a minute - " Sarah started, but he was already dashing out of the door. The rest of them jumped to their feet. "_Shit_," Sarah said. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"What do we do?" Turk asked.

"Well, I don't know about you," Donald said, running for the door, "But I refuse to lose the King of the bloody Britons!"

And with that he was gone, with Sarah, Dan and Turk close on his heels.

Jocelyn slumped in her chair and watched the little light hover in the middle of her otherwise cloudy globe. There was something not right, she thought. Something not right at all.

She needed to go deeper.

* * *

Once Arthur had got the hang of where he was, it turned out the Thames was easy to find. It was a simple matter of tracking and he had been raised to be a hunter since birth. He knew how to memorise notable locations, and this London had them by the bucket load. He ran for it, Sarah and the others eventually catching him up.

"This is a bad idea," Sarah shouted at him as they shot past Trafalgar Square. "What if something's wrong with him?"

"We don't know until we find out!" Arthur retorted and sped up, until they had finally scrambled to the Embankment. There was a road separating them from the path directly by the Thames, and if it hadn't been for Sarah grabbing his arm, Arthur might have simply run straight into the oncoming traffic. They stood and caught their breath and surveyed the people wandering along the Embankment. The sun was bright, the large trees dappling the path with patterns of light and dark. The path was busy with people, but not too busy.

"This is daft," Dan was saying, "We don't even know how accurate that spell was - "

And then Arthur saw Merlin.

He was strolling along the path, slower than most of the other people who were walking at London pace, which was what had caught Arthur's attention, and his eyes were on the river before him. He was dressed in a dark jumper with a hood and trousers made of an odd, blue fabric, but it was him. It was his dark hair, his pale skin, his vaguely irritating way of slouching and shuffling. And then he stepped into a patch of sunlight and it was his face, it was Merlin's profile. It was Merlin, as young and as real as he had been the day that Arthur died.

"Arthur?" Sarah was saying, from what sounded like a vast distance away. "Arthur, what's - " And then she followed his gaze and said a soft, "Oh."

"Is that the Prof?" Turk asked. "He's young."

"Yeah, he rang me," Sarah said. "He said he's turned young, he - "

"Definitely him," Dan said. "I've seen old pictures of him - "

"Merlin," Arthur said.

It was his own voice that broke the spell, that made it reality. There was Merlin, right over there, it was him, it was him.

"Merlin," he said again. And then, shouted, "_Merlin!_"

And somehow that set him off; he sprang forward, ignoring Sarah shouting "Arthur, no, _wait_!", ignoring the beeping horns of the cars as he dashed across the road. Suddenly he had wings on his feet - he was flying, not running, it really felt like he was flying, dodging people, jumping over thrown rubbish, navigating benches, flying, flying, flying towards that figure in the dark jumper, towards that black hair and - and -

"Merlin!" He lunged forward and grabbed his arm…

…And Merlin wheeled around, tearing his arm from Arthur's grip. "Woah!"

They both froze.

Arthur stalled, suddenly transfixed. It was Merlin, standing right in front of him, _his _Merlin, the Merlin he had watched and waited for for so long, for one thousand, four hundred and nine years. It was his pale face, his high cheekbones, his crystal blue eyes. It was Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.

And yet he was staring at Arthur as if he had never seen him before.

They had about five seconds of staring at each other, then a wave of dread prompted Arthur into speech. "Merlin, it's me," he said.

He was repaid with a blank look that left him breathless with horror. "Sorry," Merlin said, and it was his voice, just as it had been before, it was Merlin's voice and Arthur hadn't heard that in so, so long. "I, uh. I think you've got the wrong guy, mate."

He turned to leave; Arthur grabbed his arm again, feeling the warmth of him under his hand. "Merlin," he said, trying not to panic. "It's me, it's Arthur."

Merlin shot him a look of alarm and tried to twist his arm out of Arthur's grip. "I don't know an Arthur," he said, and Arthur could see he looked properly worried now. "And my name's not - wait, did you say M - Merlin - my name's definitely _not _Merlin - e-excuse me, can you let go of my arm, please?"

Something slipped into Arthur's heart, sharp and cold. "But," he said, and clung on.

"_Please_," Merlin said, sounding genuinely frightened. "I'm not - _get off!_"

The shout shook Arthur out of it. He let his hand drop to his side, nerveless. "I," he said, and then had no idea how to continue.

"I've got to - " Merlin gestured helplessly behind him, tripping a few steps away from Arthur. "Look, I've gotta go, I, uh." He gestured again, then turned away quickly and began walking off.

Arthur couldn't move. After a few steps, Merlin glanced behind him. His face was still harried, shaken, and his eyes held no recognition in them at all.

He turned away and kept going up the road. Arthur stayed where he was.

He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to.

* * *

Merlin's Magicians led the dazed Arthur back to their HQ, though they were a more than a little dazed themselves. Jocelyn was sitting there, waiting for them, her eyes wide and wet.

"His name is Martin Earlton," she said.

* * *

The mismatched Magicians clustered around the 'computer' and went on what they called the 'internet' to find out more about him. Apparently Turk was an expert at 'hacking' but Arthur didn't know what that meant. He didn't care either. He sat apart and stared at the ground, and remembered that blank look in Merlin's eyes. So…devoid of anything. No affection, or annoyance, or humour, or any of those looks Arthur had been so used to. Nothing at all, not even anger or betrayal. No emotion. He had looked directly at Arthur, at his king, at his _destiny_…and saw nothing.

Sarah hesitated, then went and sat next to Arthur. "It'll be okay," she said, a little shakily. "There's a reason for it, I'm sure. He'll remember."

"What if he doesn't?" Arthur twisted his fingers together. "What if he - " He broke off, a lump suddenly developing in his throat. "You know earlier," he said, "When I said nothing could frighten me?"

"Yeah," Sarah said softly.

"I lied," he replied. "A world without Merlin - that frightens me."

Sarah squeezed his arm, but said nothing. At that moment, Turk suddenly said, "Ah. Got some pictures."

They grouped around the computer, Sarah dragging Arthur with her. The screen was strange, as was the way that Turk managed to direct what they could see on it, but Arthur was not in the mood for questions. A picture of Merlin was on the screen, more realistic than a painting. He was dressed in a shirt and was holding some sort of drink and smiling amidst a bunch of other people. He looked happy, Arthur thought, and his stomach twisted itself in knots.

Turk clicked something and another picture came up. It was the same place, but with a few different people. And one in particular…

"Wait," Arthur said. "Wait, that's…" He trailed off and stared.

Morgana was staring back at him.

He found his voice. "That's Morgana," he said. "She's Morgana." He pointed at her, and his finger trembled. Morgana was barely smiling but looked directly into the camera, her eyes cool and an arm around Merlin. It made Arthur itch to see Merlin smiling like that when she was so near.

"That's Morgana?" Donald said, sounding thrilled. "High Priestess?"

Turk checked the writing beside the picture. "Morgan Faye, according to Facebook," he said.

"What's a Facebook?" Arthur asked.

"Never mind, Arthur," Sarah said softly. "She's what - Martin's friend?"

"Worse than that," Turk said, moving the screen down and going pale. "She's his flatmate. Look."

He pointed to one of the written comments under the picture. One was titled 'Morgan Faye' and said _Martin my wonderful flatmate - love youuu! x_

"No," said Arthur.

"It makes sense," Jocelyn said. "If she's returned and she's influenced the Professor, that would explain the strange veil I was seeing over his magic."

"She's somehow made him forget everything," said Sarah.

"That would explain the return of Arthur as well," Donald replied. "The legends say you would return in a time of Albion's greatest need. If Morgana has returned, you can be sure we need the help of the only king to beat her."

"But I'm nothing without Merlin," Arthur managed with difficulty.

"And she knows that as well," Dan said. "So she took him."

There was a horrified silence.

"Well," Jocelyn said slowly. "There may be a way to break her magic."

They all turned to look at her. "How?" asked Sarah.

Jocelyn shrugged. "It will take a lot of effort to keep the Professor from remembering anything. I suspect there is a reason why she is his flatmate."

Arthur realised, suddenly, what she was saying. "To keep him close to her."

"Exactly," said Jocelyn. "If we could take him from her long enough, maybe the magic will lose its grip."

They all stared at one another. Turk clapped his hands together and grinned.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "I believe it's time for a good old-fashioned kidnapping."

* * *

"You're being very quiet this evening," Morgan called from the kitchen as she was microwaving some popcorn. Martin was sit on the sofa in a blanket, staring at the TV, on which was a paused image of Sean Bean in his Game of Thrones get up. Game of Thrones was a shared guilty pleasure between he and Morgan - he could never work out why he liked it, but there was something about the faraway world of cloaks and magic that appealed to him.

He shrugged his blanket around him, musing on this. "Had a weird moment today," he said.

"Oh yeah?" He heard numbers being punched into the microwave.

"Yeah," he said. "This bloke came up to me and called me _Merlin_."

There was a loud shattering sound from inside the kitchen. He started up on the sofa.

"Morgan? You okay?"

There was a short pause. "Yeah," Morgan said. "Yeah, fine. I just dropped the bowl. It's nothing."

Martin got up anyway, and peeked into the kitchen. Morgan was staring blankly down at the shattered pieces of bowl on the floor.

"Well done," he said, and bent down to pick some up.

"You met someone," Morgan said a bit faintly.

"Hmm?" Martin said, concentrating on picking up pieces of bowl without cutting himself. "Oh. Yeah. Probably a nutter. Didn't see him again though."

"Right," Morgan said. She still sounded rattled. "Right, yeah."

"Don't worry," Martin said cheerfully, glancing at her. "It's just a bowl. There are others in the world, you know."

Morgan laughed at that, but for the rest of the evening she stayed very quiet.


	4. Kidnap

**A/N: Greetings again, all. This has been a 'fun' chapter to write. Let me know what you think of it.**

**TRIGGER WARNINGS: For kidnap and abduction, though it is mostly tongue-in-cheek.**

**WARNING: For a lot of swearing. Because it turns out Martin!Merlin has a filthy mouth on him.**

* * *

_Jocelyn shrugged. "It will take a lot of effort to keep the Professor from remembering anything. I suspect there is a reason why she is his flatmate."_

_Arthur realised, suddenly, what she was saying. "To keep him close to her."_

_"Exactly," said Jocelyn. "If we could take him from her long enough, maybe the magic will lose its grip."_

_They all stared at one another. Turk clapped his hands together and grinned._

_"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "I believe it's time for a good old-fashioned kidnapping."_

* * *

The HQ erupted.

"Kidnapping?" Sarah yelled. "Are you _mad_? Do you know how much trouble we'd get in? This is the 21st century, Turk, not the 6th, you can't just steal people from their homes! The cops will have us in seconds!"

"It's not his home," Turk reasoned. "This is Merlin's home. Morgana kidnapped him first. If you think about it, we're actually saving him."

"Not while he thinks he's called _Martin_, we're not!" Sarah argued.

"Look," Donald said, "If it's the only way we can get him to remember who he is – "

"Personally, I'm all for a bit of risk," Dan added, and grinned wolfishly.

"It won't work," said Arthur quietly.

There was a pause. Everyone stared at him.

"It won't work," he repeated, looking up at them. "Not if Morgana is keeping him. You'll never beat her. You won't even get close to him."

The staring turned into smirking.

"Pur-_lease_," said Dan.

"You underestimate our badass abilities," added Turk.

"No," argued Arthur. "You don't understand. This is _Morgana._ She took Camelot when no other enemy could touch us. She turned some of my allies against me, even my wife. She almost destroyed Merlin multiple times and he is meant to be the greatest sorcerer in the world! If she wants to keep Merlin then she will, and you will never be able to take him from her."

There was an obstinate silence. Dan and Turk pouted.

"We've been trained by Merlin," Jocelyn said finally, softly. "He taught us everything. He found us and told us we weren't crazy, we were special. He helped us hone our abilities and open them out at the same time. He gave us everything and because he wanted us to be the best we could be. He had no other motive but that he wanted to help us. Did you really think that when the time came, we wouldn't do all we could to help _him_?"

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

"Surely," Donald said quietly, "If it might save the Professor, it's worth a try at least?"

Arthur glanced at Sarah. Sarah sighed, but nodded.

* * *

When they came back to the HQ at about midnight, Jocelyn was scanning her crystal ball again with fierce concentration. "I've got his address," she said. "He is in the flat, but so is Morgana. In separate rooms, I think. Probably sleeping."

"Now," Turk said, business-like. "I can use my magic to make us invisible and I can also stifle the sounds we make – "

"And I can get us through the lobby of the flat, assuming the porter doesn't have magic – " Dan put in, winking.

"And I can get us into the flat," Sarah finished. "But we'll need all of us to actually get the Prof out of the building...in case, you know, he puts up a fight."

"He thinks his name is Martin and that he's a telemarketer," Donald said, with distaste. "And we're going to bloody abduct him. He's going to put up a fight."

"Oh, and if we do bump into Morgana, at least we've got Donald to try and stifle her magic a bit," put in Sarah, and smiled innocently as he grimaced.

* * *

They clustered together on the threshold of the door of the HQ.

"Right," said Sarah. "Anyone want to pull out?"

There was silence.

"Okay, just me then," Sarah said. She sighed. "Come on then, folks, I guess you only live once."

"YOLO," added Dan.

Arthur coughed. "Actually, this is my second time," he said.

There was an awkward silence.

"Right, then," said Turk.

"Sodding hell, this is insane," said Donald.

They left all together.

* * *

"Hi," Dan said cheerfully to the porter. He was so small that Turk had to lift him up by the collar to face the porter. "We're just breaking in here. You're going to let us go and let us leave, and you're never going to remember this happened at all. Okay?"

The porter's gaze went blank. "'Kay," he said.

"Beautiful," said Dan. Turk lowered him to the floor. Sarah frowned for a moment, then smiled. "Security cameras are offline," she said. "Turk."

"Okay, get in a huddle," Turk ordered. "I can blanket us with invisibility, but we need to stay together."

They bunched together, bumping shoulders. Most of the group were grinning at each other, caught up in the moment. Arthur had to admit, even though he had more experience in quests then he knew what to do with, he was still feeling excited. Somehow that thrill of adventure never got old.

Turk waved his hands over them, then nodded. "Okay, we're good to go."

Arthur glanced down at himself, but he could see nothing amiss. The others nudged him towards the lift, which was waiting patiently for them, and the trouble really began.

* * *

"There could be an alarm," Sarah said, as they faced the blank flat door. "Magical, not electrical, otherwise I'd sense it. But we have no way of knowing."

"The Prof would be able to sense it," Dan said in a small voice.

"We've gone too far to turn back." Donald, who had surprisingly got into this adventure more than anyone else, spoke up. "Let's just try it."

Sarah glanced at Arthur, who nodded. The thought that Merlin could be behind that door...it was too tempting to pass up. How could he go back, knowing he had been so close?

Plus, he had never been one to fail a quest.

"Okay, fine," Sarah said, and concentrated.

The door swung open. They braced themselves for an alarm, for Morgana to run screeching out of her room, for anything...but there was silence. Silence and darkness.

They clustered inside. "Do you hear anything?" Donald whispered.

"Donald, you don't need to whisper, I'm stifling our noise," Turk said, but he was talking quietly as well. Something about the room demanded it.

They shuffled into what looked like a living room, letting their eyes adjust. There was absolute silence.

"I think he's in that room," Jocelyn said, pointing to a door at the left.

"I hope you're bloody right, or we're going to walk straight into bloody Morgana," Sarah muttered, and opened the door.

It was a bedroom, very messy, filled with clutter and a million miles away from Merlin's neatly ordered studio flat...but inside the tiny single bed was lying a very familiar figure.

"Oh my god," squealed Dan. "We've actually done it!"

Merlin was lying stretched out on his back like he'd often slept before, his dark hair ruffled every which way, his face free of lines and creases. It was such a familiar sight that Arthur's stomach ached from it. He had seen that face on hunts, on nights before battles when he couldn't sleep and Merlin had been lying near, pale face lit by the moon and peaceful in its slumber.

He stepped forward.

"Arthur, no!" Sarah hissed, but he had already put a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

* * *

Martin woke up, suddenly, to find a tall, blond, gorgeous stranger looming over him.

In other circumstances, he would not be opposed to this. But this was the middle of the night and he was pretty sure he had fallen asleep minus one tall, blond, gorgeous stranger and thus should not be waking up to one.

"Holy shit!" he yelped, and sat up, shuffling back into the wall. The stranger started back as well.

"You can see me?" he said.

"Of course I can see – " Martin started, then stopped when someone _else_ said, "And hear you?"

He glanced over. In the doorway was clustered a whole group of people, all staring at him with wide eyes.

"Oh shit," Martin said. "Oh shit, burglars, oh _shit_ – _Morga – _"

"_No!_" Tall, Blond and Gorgeous clapped his hand fiercely over Martin's mouth. "Nonono," he said. "Not a good idea. Don't speak. _Bad _idea."

_I could bite his hand_, Martin thought, but he was a momentarily distracted by the blue eyes staring at him. They seemed oddly familiar.

"This isn't good," a goth girl in black clothes with black hair was saying. "If he can see us and speak to us..."

"Then maybe it isn't working on people with magic," a skinhead man in a leather jacket was saying. "_Shit._"

"We need to shut him up," said a small boy viciously. "We can't have him yelling and screaming all the time – how're we going to do that if your _stupid_ magic – "

"Don't call my magic stupid," snapped Leather Jacket. "No more stupid than yours, your magic doesn't work on magic people _either_ – "

"Guys," Goth Girl said, "Can we keep it _down?_"

"Of course!" yelped a man with a terrible moustache. "That's it!"

The others glared at him.

"Your magic doesn't work with magic people, Dan," Moustache said to Small Creepy Boy, "But the Prof doesn't _think _he has magic at the moment, does he? He thinks he's just a normal guy like the rest of us. Maybe it'll work."

"But he can see and hear us," an old lady pointed out. "So that involves magic – "

"Look, can we just _try?_" Moustache snapped back.

Tall, Blond and Gorgeous had let his hand on Martin's mouth slip a bit, too distracted in what the others were saying. Martin glanced up at him, wondering if he could try for a scream...and then suddenly realised all at once where he had seen him before.

"Hang on!" he said. "You're the guy from earlier toda – "

"_Argh_," Tall, Blond and Gorgeous said desperately, and clamped his hand back over Martin's mouth.

Martin rolled his eyes. The others gave Tall, Blond and Gorgeous exasperated looks.

"Right, okay, I'll try," said Small Creepy Boy. He crept closer to Martin. Martin tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go, he was already up against the wall. He threw a despairing look at Tall, Blond and Gorgeous, who shrugged helplessly.

"Sorry, Merlin," he said.

_There he goes with that 'Merlin' thing again,_ Martin thought, and then Small Creepy Boy had caught his attention and he forgot everything else, caught up in his gaze. "You will not speak," the boy said. "Unless I command otherwise. You will follow us wherever we go, unless I command otherwise. You will do as I say. Do you understand?"

Tall, Blond and Gorgeous warily took his hand off Martin's mouth. Martin opened his mouth to argue, to say something, to scream and yell and get the cops round, but nothing came out. His throat was working, he could feel it working but there was _nothing..._

He stared up at them despairingly.

"Wow," Small Creepy Boy said, and he sounded almost sad. "It worked."

"Oh, Prof," said Goth Girl, and she really did sound sad. "You've forgotten everything."

Tall, Blond and Gorgeous said nothing, but something dimmed in his eyes.

"Right," said Leather Jacket. "Let's go. Quick."

They grabbed Martin, pulling him off the bed, and he was shocked to feel his feet moving willingly towards the door. He readied himself to pull back, but his arms wouldn't obey him - he just kept moving with the group.

"Okay," Goth Girl said, towing them all through the living room. "Stay quiet, we don't want to wake – "

And then something cracked in Martin, something deep inside him, buried far below everything else. He forced whatever it was through him desperately, and managed to work his throat just enough to scream out, "_Morgan!_"

"Shit!" shouted Moustache.

Tall, Blond and Gorgeous slapped his hand over Martin's mouth again, but there was no point, whatever it was that had helped Martin shout that one word had vanished again. He slumped back into line with them, just as a light came on from Morgan's room.

_Oh god, _he thought. _Yes, quick –_

"Get him _out!_" snapped Goth Girl, and they shoved him out into the hallway.

* * *

The others piled after Merlin, Arthur last, but as he stepped across the threshold, he heard someone shriek, "_No!_" and suddenly his limbs froze, joints melding together, and he was frozen in place.

With a lot of difficulty, he twisted his head. Morgana was standing at the entrance to her room, one hand raised, her eyes blazing with fire.

"_No_," she shrieked hoarsely. "_Arthur Pendragon._"

Arthur desperately tried to move, but he couldn't, and it was suddenly, horribly too familiar to the last time he had seen Morgana, while he was dying from his wounds and Avalon was too far away. She stepped forward through the darkness, her hair wild around her head, hand outstretched and eyes glowing -

And then he felt Donald grab his shoulder, throw out his own hand and shout some indefinable word.

Morgana faltered. Arthur was abruptly unfrozen; he grabbed hold of Donald and they shoved each other out of the door and ran for it, ran as fast as they could.

Morgana's scream of rage followed them as they fled.

* * *

They caught up with the others on the street outside, the porter's vague 'Good evening' echoing after them. Sarah had hailed a taxi and was bundling the others inside. She waved at them frantically, they squeezed themselves in as quickly as possible, and soon the taxi was driving away from the building and Morgana.

"Thank god," said Donald. He was trembling from head to toe. "Thank god, thank god."

Arthur patted his shoulder. "You were very courageous," he said.

Donald stared at him. "Really? You really think so?"

Arthur nodded and smiled broadly at him. "You can be my first new knight."

Donald grinned giddily. "Knight of King Arthur," he murmured. "Sir Donald."

He sat back and closed his eyes contentedly. The taxi drove on.

* * *

They piled into the HQ and Dan graciously gave Martin his voice and limbs back.

"Okay," said Martin immediately. "Firstly, _what the hell? _And secondly, how did you do that?"

He was greeted with carefully blank looks.

"Do what?" Goth Girl asked, with a bit of a grin.

Martin glared at her. "You know what I mean," he snapped. "On the outside this place looks like a print shop, on the inside it's completely different! How did you do that?"

Tall, Blond and Gorgeous shrugged. "Magic?" he said, and smirked.

Martin set his jaw. "Look," he said, "You might be blond and gorgeous, but that doesn't entitle you to kidnap perfectly respectable people and then…then _mock _them!"

Tall, Blond and Gorgeous's mouth twitched. "Gorgeous?" he said. "Merlin never said I was gorgeous."

Martin rolled his eyes. "Then your Merlin was a blind moron," he said. "The point _remains. _This is kidnap! And what is it with you and calling me _Merlin?_"

The grin that was playing around Tall, Blond and Gorgeous's mouth vanished immediately. He dropped his crossed arms. "Because you are Merlin," he said.

Martin stared at him. "Uh," he said. "No. I'm not. I've said before. My name is Martin. For god's sake, I come from _Fulham_!"

Tall, Blond and Gorgeous gave him a blank look.

"Merlin, you simply don't remember who you are," Old Lady said softly. She hadn't spoken much since they'd snatched Martin from his flat. "Morgana has wiped your memory, she's given you new ones - "

"_Morgana?_" Martin interrupted. "Who the hell is _Morgana_?"

"Your housemate," Leather Jacket said bluntly.

Martin stared at him.

"Right," he said, and backed towards the door from where they'd come. "Okay. Look. This has been sufficiently weird for me, yeah, but I'm going now. So. Bye."

He turned on his heel and ran for the door.

"I don't think so," said Goth Girl cheerfully.

Martin twisted the doorknob. It didn't move. He pulled and pushed at the door. That didn't move either.

He was locked in.

The cold shiver of horror that he had been trying to resist finally trembled down his spine. He was suddenly, starkly aware that he was only in his pyjamas, without even his mobile to hand, and that so far he was outnumbered six to one.

He turned back to the group. They all watched him steadily.

"Who the hell _are _you people?" he asked, breathless with fear.

Tall, Blond and Gorgeous smiled. "These fine people are Merlin's Magicians," he said. "And my name is Arthur Pendragon."

* * *

Old Lady - aka Jocelyn - made them all tea, while Small Creepy Boy - aka Dan - found some biscuits. Tall, Blond and Gorgeous - aka Arthur Pen-fucking-dragon - rooted out a bag from nowhere and offered it to Martin.

"I packed some of your clothes," he said, a bit awkwardly. "And some boots."

Martin peeked into the bag. All the clothes were his size. The shoes were as well. He hesitated, but he was feeling cold and exposed; he pulled on a hoodie and dug his feet into the shoes and eavesdropped on the conversation the others were having.

"What I want to know," Leather Jacket - aka Turk - was saying, "Was why my magic didn't work on him but Dan's _did?_"

"I guess the power of persuasion is pretty powerful," Goth Girl - aka Sarah - was saying.

"He's confused," Jocelyn was saying. "He woke up, saw and heard a bunch of intruders, didn't realise we were meant to be invisible - "

"Plus he broke Dan's command once," Turk said. "He shouted for Morgana. It must have been his magic - "

"So he does have his magic still, it's just unstable?" Dan said. "Great, that's just _great!_"

"Just so you know," Martin said loudly, interrupting their muttering, "You're all mental and I'm going to go to the cops and report you as soon as I get away from you."

The group smiled at him, in varying degrees of pity and scorn. "Tea?" said Jocelyn, and brandished a cup at him.

They weren't like your average kidnappers, Martin thought. There wasn't a balaclava in sight and no knives anywhere. Also, they could stop people talking, they knew your clothes size well in advance and they locked doors with a blink of the eye.

He took the proffered cup. It smelled of Earl Grey and he didn't think they were likely to poison him now. He took a sip. It had been made exactly how he liked it.

"Let's see if I've got this straight," he said, trying to ignore how these total strangers knew how he had his tea without asking. "You think I'm Merlin. As in, the Merlin from all those King Arthur legends?"

"Yes," said Moustache, aka 'Sir' Donald.

"And you're King Arthur," he said, looking over at Arthur.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "Is it really impossible to believe?" he asked.

Martin opened his mouth to say no, but the word wouldn't come. He was tall, blond and gorgeous, sure, but there was also something else about this man. He didn't seem…right. Even standing in a t-shirt and jeans, he looked out of place. It had to be something to do with the way he was standing. He was…_commanding_, yes, that was it. He commanded the space around him. Effortlessly.

"Jesus Christ," Martin said aloud. He was crazy, he was actually going crazy with the rest of them. He put his tea firmly down on the table. "Okay, seriously, I want to go home."

"You can't," Turk said.

"Why?" Martin said. "Because my awesome bitch of a supermodel flatmate will erase my fucking memory?"

"Yes," said Arthur.

"Fuck you," said Martin. He turned on his heel, marching for the door even as he knew it was hopeless. "Fuck the lot of you, you crazy _fucking - _"

"Merlin - " Arthur started, following him hastily.

"_Stop calling me that!_" Martin yelled, wheeling around to face him. "I'm not fucking Merlin, I'm _Martin_, I've got a crap job, I've got a sodding uni degree, I've got a mum and a dad and a sister, shit, I've even got a _dog_, okay, I've got my own memories, _my _memories - "

Arthur grabbed his hand.

The world went white. Then, very slowly, it started coming back, but Martin wasn't in their HQ anymore. He was in a huge, brightly lit hall, and in front of him was a table and it was perfectly round and surrounded by red chairs. And there was someone beside him, he could feel it, could feel their wordless presence at his shoulder.

He turned. The person was Arthur, but dressed this time in armour and a crown, and a bright red cloak. And he looked like a King.

"Well?" Arthur said, and gestured to the great table before them. "What do you think? This was your idea after all."

Martin blinked. The image faded gently away and he was back in the HQ, and Arthur was still holding his hand, and he was staring at Martin with wide, blue eyes.

"Did you see - ?" he asked.

Martin snatched his hand out of Arthur's. "Was that you?" he snapped. "Did you do that? Do you have magic?"

"Wha - magic? _Me?_" Arthur said, and then laughed, a short bark of laughter. "No - that was - "

"That was my fucking _dream_," Martin shouted. He was shaking from head to toe now. "I dreamed that, how did you - "

"It wasn't a dream," Arthur shouted back. "It was a _memory_, you clotpole!"

There was a rattled silence. Martin and Arthur stared at each other. The Magicians stared at them.

"Right," Jocelyn said after a pause, and put her cup down on the table. "It's late enough. I think we all need some rest."

* * *

"We can't leave him alone," Sarah muttered. They had huddled in a group while Merlin sulked on the outside, kicking at a computer that was 'refusing' to turn on. "And we can't really leave him here, it might not be safe from Morgana. If we can see through the illusion, she might be able to as well."

"But where else is safe?" Donald said.

"Merlin's studio flat," Arthur said suddenly. "I'll stay with him. You can lock us in overnight."

"Plus," Jocelyn said, latching onto the idea, "He might remember something. Surrounded by all the things he owns - well, maybe something will get through."

"Agreed," said Sarah.

"Agreed," murmured the rest of the group.

* * *

The flat was weird. The flat was tiny, and far too neat for Martin's tastes, but it was weird as well. He couldn't work out what was wrong with it. It was like every time he blinked, something had moved or shifted somehow, a lampshade had turned, a book had jumped from one pile to another. Nothing seemed very stable.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked from a corner.

Martin shot him a venomous look. "Oh sure," he said. "I just got locked into some unknown fucking flat in the middle of nowhere by a bunch of people who apparently have _magic, _oh, and guess what? I'm sharing it with fucking King of the fucking _Britons_."

Arthur blinked. "You swear a lot these days," he said simply.

"Fuck you," said Martin, but without feeling. He sat on the bed, suddenly exhausted.

Arthur sat down slowly on the sofa. "I suppose you can have the bed," he said grudgingly. "It is yours after all."

"Gee thanks, King Arthur," Martin drawled. "Are you always this generous?"

"Mostly," Arthur shot back. "Though you were constantly nagging at me to be more so."

"I don't _nag_," Martin snapped.

"You do nothing but," Arthur retorted.

They glared at each other. Martin toed off his shoes and pulled off his hoodie, lying back down on the bed. It was soft and enveloping. He felt his eyes drift close, listened to Arthur moving around loudly.

"You," he mumbled, "Are a colossal prat."

There was a small silence. "Say that again," said Arthur, sounding weird.

"I said," Martin repeated a bit more loudly. "You're a _prat._"

There was another odd silence. Martin cracked open an eye. Arthur was standing, staring at him, and there was the strangest look on his face.

Martin frowned; Arthur couldn't be offended, Martin had said far ruder things to him that evening already. And it didn't look like he was offended…it looked…

And then Arthur smiled, and Martin realised it hadn't been indignation he had been seeing on Arthur's face, but _fondness._

"Maybe there's hope for you yet, Martin," Arthur said, and smiled a smile brighter than the sun.


	5. Storm Clouds

**A/N: Yikes, sorry about the late update, friends. It's all been a mental this month. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for your reviews and love :) Never fear by the way, this is not the last chapter!  
**

**Warnings for swearing.**

* * *

_Martin frowned; Arthur couldn't be offended, Martin had said far ruder things to him that evening already. And it didn't look like he was offended…it looked…_

_And then Arthur smiled, and Martin realised it hadn't been indignation he had been seeing on Arthur's face, but fondness._

_"Maybe there's hope for you yet, Martin," Arthur said, and smiled a smile brighter than the sun._

* * *

There was a boat in the water.

Martin was watching it carefully, almost earnestly, as it floated slowly away into the mist before him. He didn't know why the boat was so important but it was, he could feel it. He couldn't tear his gaze away and he didn't want to. It was vital that he keep watching it, absolutely vital…

And then the pain hit him, a crippling pain so sharp that he could almost feel his heart break under it. Because he knew he would be alone and he didn't know how long for, but he was sure that for a while at least he would be utterly alone in the world.

He was _grieving._

And the boat was moving further away from him.

* * *

Martin opened his eyes. An unfamiliar ceiling stared down at him. There was an odd noise, a sort of cooing, nearby but he couldn't find the energy to sit up and investigate. He was warm and comfortable, and for the first time in ages, he felt almost totally relaxed.

He blinked his eyes at the ceiling, then turned his head to the side, still a bit disorientated.

And then froze. He was in a flat, _that _flat, he was in the process of being kidnapped and his kidnapper was currently zoned out on the sofa, snoring lightly and lying completely still, his blond hair tumbled over his face.

Arthur Pendragon, Martin thought venomously. Arthur bloody _fucking _Pendragon more like.

Oddly, it wasn't alarm that Martin felt, or danger, at the sight of his kidnapper. It was a fierce, almost burning sense of _relief. _As if he was overjoyed to see Arthur. And yet there was something in the way he was lying, so still, with only the grey morning light on his face. Something disquieting.

He looked like a corpse.

Great. Five seconds of being awake in this stupid flat and he was already going crazy. Martin tutted to himself and sat up.

And promptly hit his head on the low ceiling.

He bit down on his shout, clutched his head and glanced over at Arthur. The prat hadn't moved a muscle, hadn't even interrupted his snoring. Martin wouldn't have put it past him to let Martin have the bed in the full knowledge that he would damage himself getting out of it.

Still…at least he hadn't woken up. Martin looked over at the door. It was unguarded as far as he could see. He remembered Goth G - Sarah - doing something to it before she left, but that could have been his imagination. It all could have been his imagination, actually. His inability to speak, that strange place disguised inside a completely different building. Maybe he had been so terrified that he had been making up things.

He pushed the bedsheets aside and kept one eye on Arthur while he felt around for his shoes and put on his hoodie again. The man didn't budge. Martin took a deep breath and tiptoed to the door.

His hand was just on the doorknob when Arthur's voice said, "Nice try."

Martin froze and turned around. Arthur was sitting up, grinning at him. "If it hadn't been for you hitting your head on the ceiling, you might not have woken me at all," he said.

Martin clenched his jaw, furious. "This is kidnap," he informed Arthur. "This is _abduction_. You could go to prison for this!"

Arthur smiled. His hair was all ruffled from sleeping, eyes very blue in the grey light. "Open the door, then," he said.

Martin stared at him.

"Go on," pressed Arthur.

Martin tried the doorknob. It wouldn't even turn. "It's locked," he said.

"Yes, by magic," Arthur said. He yawned and stretched. "I'm hungry. Make me breakfast."

Martin glared at him. "Make your own breakfast."

"Can't," Arthur shot back cheerfully. "Don't know how."

"Right," Martin said. "Because you're the King of Camelot, I suppose."

"Exactly." Arthur grinned at him. It was an irritatingly attractive smile.

Martin glowered, but he was hungry too and he supposed he would need to eat to keep up his energy for possible escapades later. "You," he informed Arthur icily, "Are the worst kidnapper _ever._"

Arthur winked at him. This was also attractive. "I'm going to have a bath," he said, standing up. "Sarah showed me how to work the shoo-wer, but I don't trust it yet."

"It's pronounced _shower_," Martin said automatically, but was only answer by the slamming of the bathroom door. "Prat," he added, mostly for his own benefit.

He turned back to the doorknob, but it stuck fast. In irritation, he planted his hands on his hips, and at the same time the sound of cooing that he had heard earlier came to his attention again. He glanced over at the balcony window. A crowd of pigeons were staring into the flat, looking at him expectantly.

"What?" he snapped at them. The pigeons cooed. He went over to the window, preparing to wave them away, but instead his eye fell on a bag of bird feed sitting on the sill. The pigeons were eyeing it - and him - hungrily.

Almost automatically Martin reached into the bag, grabbed a handful of seed, then opened the window and threw it out. The pigeons descended on it. He stood and watched them for a long time. The action had been as familiar as breathing, as if he had done it for centuries.

The sky rumbled above. He glanced up and saw that clouds were knotting together higher up, grey and thunderous. London was in for a storm.

He closed the window again and looked around the flat. It still didn't feel quite right. _He _didn't feel quite right. The place felt both familiar and unfamiliar, and he couldn't work out which feeling was strongest.

He needed to know more about this place.

His eye fell to the nearby bookcase, and he walked over to have a closer look. All of the books he had read before, but that didn't mean anything. They were popular books. He picked out the first Harry Potter book and had a flick through. There was an inscription in the front cover. _Prof_, it said in unfamiliar handwriting, _Saw this and thought of you. Think you and Dumbledore would get on! Sarah xxx_

Martin put the book back down, feeling suddenly unnerved. This whole place was full of memories that he didn't have but everyone else insisted were his.

There were some papers on the top of the shelf, so he had a rifle through. A photo caught his eye. It was in sepia, taken in a garden. A mixed bunch of people, almost as mixed as the ones he had met last night, were gathered around, looking at the camera, all dressed in what looked like Victorian clothes. And there was a man standing in the middle of them, an elderly man, but not quite Dumbledore-age. He had a short beard and what looked like dark hair with light coloured strands, and although the arms of many of the others were draped around his shoulders or otherwise touching him, his expression was one of the most abject loneliness.

He had Martin's eyes.

"What's that?" Arthur's voice said from behind him. Martin jumped, dropping the picture back on the shelf, then watched as Arthur's wet and very naked arm reached round to take it. His mouth went dry.

"Ah, you in your early days," Arthur said, a bit wryly. "Nice beard."

Martin turned on his heel. It turned out to be a bit of a mistake. He was not ready for a half naked Arthur with only a towel around his waist, especially an Arthur who had just gotten out of the bath and was flushed with the heat and dripping everywhere.

"Er," he said.

Arthur ignored him, studying the picture carefully. "This is a very detailed painting," he said.

Martin rolled his eyes. "It's called a photograph," he said, snatching it back.

Arthur gave him a blank look. "Where's my breakfast?" he asked.

Martin set his jaw, thought about a rude comeback, then stalked towards the kitchen instead.

He could feel Arthur's smirk following him as he went.

* * *

They sat on opposite sides of the table and watched each other warily. Arthur was doing his best to be patient, but having Merlin sitting opposite him, watching him with hostile eyes, was really getting on his nerves. And the worst was that he couldn't find a way to talk about what he was feeling. He'd never been very good at that, even during the Camelot days and particularly with Merlin.

He turned to his old technique - being annoying.

"Was cereal really the best you could do?" he sniped.

Merlin glared at him. "You're from the 6th century, you're not meant to know what cereal is," he pointed out.

"We had cereal." Arthur flicked a nut at him. "You used to try to serve it to me."

"You complained, I suppose." Merlin swatted the nut away.

"How did you know?" Arthur asked.

"It's kind of a habit with you," Merlin retorted.

Arthur grinned.

There was a rumble of thunder outside; they both turned to look at the windows. The sky was black and getting blacker.

"Storm's coming," Merlin said softly.

At that moment, the door swung open and Sarah burst in, looking a complete mess. She stared agog at the two of them calmly eating breakfast.

"You're still here!" she spluttered at Merlin.

Merlin stared at her blankly. "Well yeah," he said. "You locked the door on me."

Sarah gave him a long look. She looked more rattled than Arthur had seen her. "How can you be so calm?" she barked. "Can't you feel it?!"

Merlin looked at her blankly. "Feel what?"

It was the first time Sarah seemed properly upset by the new Merlin. Her bottom lip quivered a little. "This storm is no normal storm," she said. "It's got magic in it, dark magic, _angry _magic, _Morgana's sodding magic_, and if you had your right mind, you'd be able to sense that! Even someone with a tiny shred of magic could sense this. And you're the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the planet and you're just sitting and - and eating _cornflakes!_"

Her lip quivered again, and she stormed into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

Merlin stared over at Arthur, wide-eyed. It was a familiar look, an old look from thousands of years ago, the look that Merlin had flashed Arthur a million times in the past when he had done something wrong and wasn't quite sure what it was. Arthur couldn't help but smile at it.

"Told you the cereal was a mistake," he said.

* * *

Sarah marched out of the kitchen about ten minutes later, looking a little red around the eyes but with her jaw set in determination.

"Right," she said, "We're going to the HQ. Coming, Merlin?"

"It's _Martin_," said Merlin exasperatedly. "And do I have any choice?"

"No," said Arthur.

They left.

* * *

The sky was pounding with intent when they left the building, so much so that Martin could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets, silently hating the two who had grabbed his shoulders and were frogmarching him along the street, but all his hatred abandoned him when Arthur foolishly started crossing a busy road without looking first and Martin saw a car heading straight towards him.

The car was going too fast. Arthur was going to get hit.

Afterwards, Martin would not be able to say how he had done it - it seemed that time just slowed down for him. The next thing he knew, he had shaken free of Sarah's grip, flung himself across the road and tackled Arthur to the opposite pavement, the two of them missing the speeding car by a millimetre.

Time flowed back into its proper tracks again. He was suddenly starkly aware that he was collapsed on top of Arthur, and that Sarah was yelling and shouting somewhere in the background. He raised his head. Arthur was staring at him, with a dumbstruck, slightly stupid look on his face.

"Are you all right?" Martin asked.

Arthur blinked at him. Then smiled. It was a large, lazy smile, and did nothing to relieve Martin's concern.

"Did you hit your head?" he asked. "Arthur, are you - "

"I'm fine," Arthur interrupted. "I'm - I'm fine, it's just…" He smiled again. "You can't stop saving me, can you? Even when you don't know who I am."

Martin stared at him, then felt himself start to blush from head to toe. He picked himself up off Arthur, just as Sarah came running towards them.

"How did you _do _that?" she asked. She was flustered but chattering excitedly. "It was - I've never seen anyone move so fast, it was - it was _magic_!"

The clouds above them made a sudden cracking sound, as if they were splitting apart. Sarah grabbed Martin's arm, helping Arthur to stand with her other hand.

"She's sensed it," she said. "We need to get to the HQ as soon as possible. Now. _Now._"

She dragged them into a run. Martin followed, because at this point he didn't have a clue what else he could do.

* * *

They bundled into the HQ altogether, just as the sky was really thundering above them. The rest of the group were there, clustered around what looked like a crystal ball and when they looked up to see Martin, they all slumped in relief. They were looking various states of dishevelled.

"Thank god you're all right," Donald said. He gave Arthur a wan smile, who nodded in return.

Sarah turned to the door, locking it fiercely and no doubt using her damn magic so that Martin couldn't escape, he thought bitterly. "We nearly weren't," she replied. "Morgana sensed the Prof's magic when he accidentally used it. The storm's worsened."

"We'll be all right in here," Turk said. "I've strengthened the charms around the HQ as much as I can. As long as Merlin doesn't do magic again, she shouldn't be able to find us."

"Her magic is stronger than all of ours," Small Creepy B - Dan drawled. "She could find us. She could totally beat any of us."

"Any of us but Merlin," said Arthur.

They all turned to look at Martin. He groaned. "First of all," he said, "It's _Martin._ And second of all, I didn't use magic, I just…I don't know, I'm faster than I thought I was. And thirdly…" He looked up at them. They were all staring at him, watching him as if he were some skittish, rare animal about to bolt. "I need a drink," he finished miserably.

* * *

Martin made instant coffee. Arthur watched the process, completely nonplussed and far too curious for his own good. "I don't understand how those granules make a drink," he said. "Doesn't it make the drink gritty?"

"No," Martin replied bluntly. He wasn't interested in furthering his explanation - he was too busy eavesdropping on the group around the crystal ball.

"She's doing a similar spell to the one I use," Jocelyn was saying, "Except more violent. She's ripping apart London, using a combination of her magic and the magic of London to find the Professor's magic. The Professor is so much more powerful than anyone else, he'd usually be easy to find. But she knows he's enchanted, so its taking her longer."

"Didn't take you very long," Turk pointed out.

Jocelyn grinned. "Oh, well that's because I had a very good teacher." She smiled over at Martin. Martin looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

"All right," he heard Sarah say after a brief pause. "So she's building up magic to target the Prof. Just how far can she go?"

"Very far," Donald replied. "London is full of magic. All sorts of magic, or so the history books say. So many feet have trod these paths. So many lives have been lived in this city. London is bursting with power. And if it all gets built up, it can turn into something…well, something terrible."

"You mean it can destroy the city," Dan said, in an uncharacteristically small voice.

"There's a high chance," Donald replied.

There was a rather awful pause.

"Anything we can do about it?" Sarah asked at last.

Jocelyn rubbed her forehead. "I might be able to mislead her to somewhere else until she gets tired and can't do any more searching. It'll give us a little time. But I'll need your help."

"You have it," Sarah said instantly. The others nodded earnestly.

Outside the storm rumbled. Martin sighed. He was starting to get a headache. This was turning into the craziest twenty-four hours he had ever lived through. First all this nonsense about him being some legendary old wizard and now the nutters were onto a fresh delusion. One storm and they were banging on about Morgana and the magic of London. They all needed a really good psychiatrist, the lot of them.

He glanced sideways at Arthur. Arthur didn't seem so bad. Certainly less bonkers than the rest of them, though considering he thought he was the King of the Britons from the 6th century, that really didn't say much. "I need to get out of here," Martin said to him.

Arthur glanced at him. "Merlin, you can't. Morgana will find you."

"I don't," Martin said through gritted teeth, "Fucking _care_. Please. I just. Just for a bit. Please."

Arthur wavered, which was interesting. Martin had assumed he was made of stronger stuff. Maybe when it came to 'Merlin', he wasn't.

"Please," he tried again, more softly.

Arthur cracked. "We need to go outside," he announced to the others.

He was treated with a variety of sarcastic looks. "Whatever," said Turk.

"Dream on," said Dan, and flashed Martin a toothy grin.

"You _can't_," said Sarah. "She'll find you in seconds!"

Arthur approached them. "We can at least purchase some food for the day," he said aloud, then muttered something to Sarah that Martin didn't catch. Whatever it was, it worked - Sarah hesitated, then glanced over at Martin.

"Shite," she said.

* * *

In the end, they would only allow the two of them out of the building if Turk put his strongest invisibility charm on Martin and Dan worked his own magic on him. He sat Martin down and said firmly, "You will not move from Arthur's side for anything. You will not use any type of magic. You will do whatever Arthur says," and Martin felt the same pull inside him, a tug that forced him to obey the brat, and he could do nothing to fight it.

He didn't talk to Arthur until they had moved off the streets into a small, nearby park. The sky was grey, black and thunderous, but there was no rain. Arthur kept flashing it nervous looks, but said nothing. There weren't many people in the park, but the ones who were weren't look at Martin - their eyes just seemed to slide off the space he was in. He suspected Turk's charm was working.

"All right," Martin said, once they were properly walking around the park. "What did you say to Goth Girl to let me go?"

Arthur frowned. "Goth Girl?"

"Oh, right," said Martin. "Sorry. Sarah. That's my nickname for her."

"You have nicknames for us?"

"Stop dodging the question, Blondie."

Arthur frowned, then grinned. "I told her I might be able to get through to the old Merlin if we were left alone for a bit."

"Right, so you lied," said Martin.

Arthur gave him a long look. "Not necessarily," he said.

* * *

They went to a Tescos and bought all kinds of junk food, then sat on a park bench and went through their hoard while the sky darkened above them.

"You bought four packs of cheese and onion crisps?!" Martin yelped when he examined Arthur's spoils.

"I like cheese and onion," Arthur replied defensively.

Martin rolled his eyes. He had turned his back on Arthur for a second in the supermarket and when he had looked again, Arthur had been holding up bottles of ketchup and salad cream and sniffing them suspiciously. If he was pretending he was from the past, he was very good at it.

"I prefer salt and vinegar," he said, for something to say. But Arthur had suddenly glazed over again, his face losing all its expression, and Martin didn't know what to say. It had happened before, when he had been eating his way through cereal earlier, and he hadn't known how to respond then either.

It was Arthur who broke the silence. "Martin," he said. "Tell me about your life."

Martin frowned. "Why? You don't even think it exists."

Arthur's eyes swept the grey sky again. "Just…tell me," he said.

Martin looked pensively at his sausage roll for a bit. "Uh," he said. It seemed a bit odd to be describing his whole life to this madman. "Well. I've lived in Fulham all my life…"

Arthur crunched on a crisp, losing his blank expression almost instantly. "Fool - ham?"

"_Fulham_," Martin corrected. "It's - it's like an area in London. I lived there with my parents and my sister when I was a kid."

Arthur blinked. "Sister?"

"Freya. She studies, uh. S-somewhere far away, I can't really - "

Martin cut himself off, a chill going up his spine. Why couldn't he remember where Freya was? He remembered _her_, her pale face and dark hair and sweet smile. He remembered he cared for her. But where was she now?

"You don't talk to her much?" Arthur asked. He sounded odd.

"No," Martin said. "Uh."

"Or your parents?"

"No…" Martin glanced at Arthur. He was staring at Martin intensely, with a similar look that the other group had had on their faces. It made Martin want to start running and never stop, and then he remembered he couldn't do it because he had been _commanded _not to, and his irritation doubled. "Look what does it matter?" he snapped. "So I don't talk to my family much, so what? Plenty of people do that."

Something gentled in Arthur's expression "It matters because they don't exist," he said. "None of them do. Because you're not Martin, you're - "

"Merlin, yes, I know, I know," Martin snarled. "Do you even know how insane that sounds? You think I'm not me, but I have all these _memories. _I remember the first time I rode a bike, I remember going to uni, I remember meeting friends and travelling, I even remember my first job in a newsagents - I just, I remember _everything _and then you turn up and you tell me it's all lies, it's all made up and actually I'm this person from _legend?_"

He took a quick breath in. The sky above them rumbled.

"Morgana did this," Arthur said at last. "It was Morgana."

Martin rubbed his head. "For god's sake. Morgan's formidable, but she's not a fucking _sorceress_."

"Then tell me - how did you meet?"

"We - I - I don't know, we just knew people in common I guess - it doesn't matter!"

Arthur looked at him, so fiercely that Martin couldn't help but meet his gaze. "You keep saying that," Arthur said. "That it doesn't matter."

His eyes were very blue. Annoyingly blue. Bit like the rest of him. "It doesn't," Martin replied.

"It does." Arthur was staring straight at him, and suddenly Martin was aware of how little space there was between them. "She's taken Merlin from me and I want him back."

Martin swallowed, then met Arthur's eyes. "Well you won't get him from me," he said.

"Really," said Arthur, like it was a challenge, and then leaned forward and touched Martin's cheek with his fingers.

Martin's heart skipped a beat twice - once when Arthur's fingertips touched his skin and then a second time when he looked into Arthur's eyes and saw the _same _eyes…but in another place. In another time. And they were dimmed and growing dimmer, and he was cradling that face in his arms and shouting, but no amount of shouting could do any good, Arthur was slipping away and those eyes were closing and and and -

"_No!_" Martin shouted and rocked backwards. Arthur jerked back in the opposite direction, and the sky above them howled suddenly in warning.

Martin leapt off the bench but couldn't seem to go any further. Then he remembered Dan's command and swore colourfully, and stayed where he was. The grief, that same overpowering grief he had felt in his dream earlier that day, rolled through him, making him gasp and bend over, clapping his hands to his knees and trying to breathe.

When he looked up, Arthur was kneeling beside him, face completely white. "I'm sorry," he said. "Merlin, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_."

He was very carefully not touching him. Martin took in a shuddering breath, and then another one. "It's Martin," he said weakly.

Arthur's face crumpled a little. It was the first time Martin had seen it. "I wish it was _you_, Merlin," he said.

Martin straightened, feeling oddly hurt. "I don't want to - " he started, but then the sky screamed, _really _screamed, screamed like a woman could, and they both ducked under the sound.

"What the _fuck _was that?" Martin said. "No seriously, what the fuck - !"

Arthur had gone pale all over again. He seized Martin's sleeve. "Run," he said.

They ran.

* * *

The entire group looked as terrified as Arthur felt when they finally slammed their way into the HQ. Arthur was trembling so violently, he knew he was shaking Merlin's sleeve. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but at the same time Sarah met his eyes, her own wide and wet, and he was breathless in horror all over again.

"No," he said.

"Arthur," she said. "I'm sorry. But Morgana's enchantment - if it gets any stronger - "

"_No_," Arthur snapped. "You can't - not when we've just found him!"

"It's not him!" Sarah shouted, and there were tears going down her cheeks now, blackened from her heavy mascara. "It's some kid called Martin, it's not even _him _we're protecting, Arthur!"

"It is," Arthur gritted out. "I was getting through, I know I was getting through, if we had more time - "

"We don't," Jocelyn interrupted calmly. "I'm sorry, Arthur. But if she goes any further, London will fall apart."

Arthur shook his head. "She wouldn't do that. She'd destroy herself as well."

"Arthur," Donald said. His eyes were dim. "When you last saw her, did she strike you as a sane woman?"

The last time Arthur had seen Morgana, Merlin had killed her. She had been gloating, eyes black with revenge, dressed in rags and wild hair. There had been nothing of the old Morgana left. She had not been his sister.

And then he imagined what a Morgana hundreds of years in the future would be like.

He glanced over at Merlin, who was white and shaking. He remembered what Merlin would do in this situation, what he had always done - he would give the person a choice.

"Well?" Arthur said. "What do you want, Merlin?"

Merlin stared at him. His eyes were Merlin's eyes - somehow both young and terribly old at the same time - but the expression in them was all Martin's.

He looked at Arthur as if he was _scared _of him.

"I want to go home," he said.

"You are home," Arthur replied quietly.

There was an awkward silence. Merlin shook his head slowly. "No," he said.

"Arthur," Jocelyn said quietly. "We have to let him go."

Arthur stared despairingly at Merlin. All those years, he thought. All those years he had waited, watching Merlin from across the water that separated them. Yet now when Merlin was a mere hand's breadth away, he was somehow even further from Arthur than he had ever been before.

"I waited so long," he said, and was surprised to find the words come out in a sort of croak. He felt his vision blur and blinked hastily.

Merlin's face was one of absolute pity. "I'm sorry," he was saying. "It's just - it's not me. All right?"

Arthur said nothing.

"I'm Martin Earlton," said Merlin. "And I want to go home now."

Arthur blinked down. He was still clutching hold of Merlin's sleeve. He let it go.

From behind him, Sarah whispered something, and the door to the HQ opened. "I'd advise not going to the cops about this," she said airily. "They won't find us and you'll get done for wasting their time. But I'm sure - " And then she choked a little on the words and had to cough before forcing the rest out. "I'm sure you're clever enough to work that out anyway."

Merlin showed no signs of having heard her. His eyes were on Arthur's. He backed towards the door slowly.

"Goodbye," he said to Arthur.

Arthur said nothing. Merlin left.

The group behind him seemed to let out collective gasps and sighs. Arthur stayed staring at the door.

Merlin had never said goodbye to him before. Even when Arthur had been dying, they'd never said goodbye.

Outside the windows, the storm started to dissipate.


	6. Revenge

**A/N: Oh wow, I'm so sorry for my late chapter. I've been on holiday but now I'm back I shall definitely be continuing this, so don't think its dead. Thanks to everyone who is sticking with my disgraceful laziness, I want to have all your babies. ALL THE BABIES.**

**Right, now we've settled that...enjoy!**

* * *

_Merlin had never said goodbye to him before. Even when Arthur had been dying, they'd never said goodbye._

_Outside the windows, the storm started to dissipate._

* * *

Martin walked slowly back to his flat, the storm vanishing altogether and the sun coming out as he went. His mood wasn't matching the weather. He felt completely bemused, and more confused with each step he took home. If he looked at the situation practically, then he had been kidnapped by a bunch of complete psychos who had somehow tricked him into seeing things that weren't real. That was probably shock. Or brainwashing. Whatever, it could be anything. The point was he should go straight to the police and report what had happened and get them all arrested. The cops could do it, despite Sarah's boast. He had the appearances and names of all of his captors, he even had the address of several of their locations.

And yet…there was nothing he had ever wanted to do less.

Because there was something, something niggling at him. Even if he hadn't seen the impossible, dreamed the impossible, there was still Arthur. And he couldn't quite deceive himself into believing that Arthur was a mere madman. Arthur was…Arthur was…

By the time he had got to his flat, he was so confused and tired that all he wanted to do was go to sleep and forget the entire thing had happened.

He put his key in the door but then it was flung open, and a rather wild looking Morgan stood in the doorway.

They stared at each other for a moment, then she let out a strange little shriek and flung her arms around him. "Martin!" she gasped, and clung to him tighter.

Martin reeled for a moment. "Hey," he said, putting a careful hand on her back. "Woah. What's going on? This isn't the first time I've been gone all night."

Morgan drew back. There was an odd look in her eyes, something entire alien to her usual expression. "I know," she spluttered. "I mean - I - I just - where have you _been?_"

Martin opened his mouth to tell her everything.

"Nowhere," he said instead.

He shut his mouth again. Morgan stared at him, and for a moment Martin had the oddest feeling, like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice.

He made up his mind and smiled as disarmingly as he could. "I went out with some colleagues after work and had a few too many, that's all. Had to crash round someone's house. Why, were you worrying about me?" He winked at her.

Morgan snorted, drawing away from his properly. "You wish," she said, and stamped back into the flat.

Martin breathed a silent sigh of relief, then wondered why he had.

* * *

While Arthur had been 'dead', he hadn't been able to move. He had stood on the shore of the lake and stared out into a moving world but he himself could not move a muscle. It hadn't hurt physically, because he'd felt numb from the head down, but it had hurt emotionally. Because he _wanted _to move. Sometimes, usually on those rare occasions Merlin came to visit, he had wanted to move so much that he could swear he felt his heart straining with the desperation.

He didn't want to move now. He sat at a table at the HQ and wished suddenly that he was back on the isle, back inside that bubble of nothing, where he couldn't feel. He never wanted to move again. There was nothing to move for.

The others were also clustered around the table, urgently talking about what their next step should be.

"At least we've learnt a lot," Turk was saying as encouragingly as he could. "We've learnt who the Professor thinks he is, and we've learnt that Morgana is alive and has him under her control - "

"And that she's very powerful," Donald put in glumly. "And can tear apart London if she wants to."

Sarah snorted. "Well, if she thinks that's going to stop us trying to get the Prof back, she's got another think coming."

"No, she hasn't," Arthur said aloud.

He blinked. He hadn't meant to speak. Everyone stopped and stared at him.

"What do you mean, Arthur?" Jocelyn asked gently.

Arthur thought about saying nothing, but the bitterness was pouring out of him before he could stop it. "I mean, we're not going to try anymore. You were right in what you said before, Sarah. Martin is not Merlin. Morgana took him and she changed him. Merlin is gone. She won."

His throat tightened painfully; he coughed and looked down at the table.

There was a long silence.

"I can't believe this," Dan said finally. "You can't be giving up!"

"I'm not giving up, I've _lost_," Arthur gritted out around the lump in his throat. "Don't you understand? I fought and I lost. Merlin is gone and all we can do is let the man left behind live his life in peace."

Dan clenched his jaw. "Some king you are," he snarled. "Giving up at the first sign of trouble. Where's the great king we read of? The king full of hope?"

"Dan - " Jocelyn said quietly.

"No wonder the Professor never spoke of you," Dan snapped. "He hoped we'd never find out what a rubbish king you _really _are."

"Dan, stop it!" Sarah snapped.

"No, I won't!" Dan shouted. "He's got no idea - no idea at _all _- about what the Professor did for me! For all of us! He's just rocked up here in his rusty armour, demanding we find the Professor and then getting all dispirited as soon as he realises the Professor isn't the Merlin he remembered. But the Professor saved my life and I'm not going to let him go, never mind who the hell he thinks he is!"

Dan took a quick breath in. Arthur stared at him. "Merlin - saved you?" he said.

Dan rolled his eyes. "Of course he did. With the magic I have, I could have caused any amount of pain. I was alone and I was afraid and no one in the world understood me or cared for me. I could have done anything. I could have got it into my head to rule the world and no one could have stopped me. But then the Professor found me and he taught me. You _know _what he taught me, he must have taught it to you too. About friendship. And mercy, and humility, and caring for others. He put thought and effort into me and he didn't need to, he had no reason to, but he did. And I am going to do the same for him. Even if he thinks he is Martin Earlton until the end of his days. I'm not just going to let him fade away!"

There was a small silence.

"I was a wreck when the Prof found me," Sarah said finally, quietly. "Drink, drugs, all of that. Because I thought I was a freak. Because there was no one else I could find like me. And then this crusty old man turned up on my doorstep and told me there were others like me, and I will never forget that."

"Same for me," Turk said, and Donald nodded.

"And it wasn't just us," Jocelyn said gently. "He's done this since the day you died. This was what he worked on, what he filled his long life with. There have been legions and legions of Merlin's Magicians, going down through the thousand years you have been absent. Some of them have become big names and done great things. Others have just lived their lives in peace and quiet. But however they lived, they lived with the knowledge that there were others there for them whenever they needed them. As time has gone on, the number of those with magic has diminished, but we still stand strong. Donald mentioned we were like the new knights of the round table, and we are. Merlin passed on your legacy to us. Camelot lives still and it lives in us."

They looked at Arthur. Arthur stared back at them. For once, he had no words to say.

But he could smile again.

* * *

Martin had an infuriating evening. He was tired and just wanted to relax, but Morgan was making it impossible. She didn't say anything out of the ordinary, but she kept hovering around him, and a couple of times he looked up from the TV to find her watching him with an intense look on her face, as if she was expecting him to vanish in mid air. He didn't say anything, oddly too worried that she might find something out about where he had been if he did, then promptly confused himself with wondering why he _cared_ if she found out or not.

Eventually, exhausted by his confusion, he gave it up. "I'm off to bed," he said. I'm knackered. Night."

Morgan twitched and threw his bedroom door a worried look, but said nothing except, "Okay, night."

It could have been Martin's imagination, but he was sure he saw her jaw set in determination as he left.

* * *

He had another strange dream that night, and yet it was one of the simplest he had ever had as well.

He was in a stone-walled corridor, blank apart from a few blazing braziers, and he was walking down it. After a while, he realised there was a doorway at the other end, and someone was standing in it with their back to him. After a few more steps, he realised it was Arthur, wearing armour and a long red cloak.

He didn't think he had cried out, but Arthur turned anyway and saw Martin walking towards him.

And he smiled and held out his hand, and Martin knew that if he took that proffered hand, he would finally be home.

He hurried his own steps and held out his own hand, reaching for Arthur, and then, just as he was a finger's breadth away, he woke up.

The room was dark, it had to still be late at night. He lay in his bed and stared up at the ceiling, and for a while his head was full of castles and dragons and red cloaks, and he was at peace.

* * *

Arthur was dreaming. He was in Camelot, standing in a doorway, and he could hear footsteps behind him. He turned and saw it was Merlin, walking towards him with his beautiful, bright smile on his face, as if he had never been so overjoyed to see Arthur in his life.

Arthur held out his hand to him. Merlin reached out to take it, and then something shook him and he woke suddenly.

Someone was looming down over him. He yelped and rifled under his pillow for his knife automatically.

"Arthur, it's me!" Sarah shouted, and the lights flicked on by themselves.

Arthur froze and tried to calm his racing heart. "What's happened?" he asked.

Sarah's face was smudged with black and sweaty, and her eyes were wide and panicky. "Something awful," she said.

* * *

"Morning, Marty!" Morgan's voice trilled when Martin came in for breakfast.

Martin mumbled. He'd never been a fan of Morgan's cheery morning attitude, but at least she sounded like she was in a better mood.

He headed into the kitchen for some cereal and screeched to a halt in the middle of the kitchen in shock. Morgan was standing in there, eating her bowl of cereal, which was not in itself surprising. What was surprising was the long scratch running down her cheek.

"Bloody hell!" Martin said. "What happened to _you?_"

"Hmm?" Morgan asked. "Oh, I fell over last night. So embarrassing. Scratched my cheek on the bed."

"Jeez," Martin said. He poured himself some of his own cereal and tried not to think about Arthur. "You're a walking danger zone, you are."

Morgan snorted. She seemed very cheerful. "Off to do some modelling," she said. "I'll be back late. Try not to worry about me."

"What, like you did me?" Martin teased.

Morgan stuck her tongue out at him and flicked a cornflake in his direction. "Laters," she said and left.

Martin readied himself for work. Maybe, he thought, if he turned up early they'd let him off for missing work the day before.

He had forgotten his dream entirely.

* * *

Martin didn't often read newspapers, so it was really only by chance that he saw the headline on one of them as he passed the newsagents on the way to work.

**INFERNO IN SHAFTESBURY AVENUE** it said. There was a picture of a very familiar building up in flames under the headline.

Martin froze. He felt like he'd suddenly swallowed ice.

"Oh God no," he said, and grabbed the newspaper.

_The blaze was started at a print company shop in Shaftesbury Avenue in the early hours of the morning, _he read. _Several buildings were damaged in the fire before the fire fighters could tame the blaze and false play is suspected. Nobody has been killed but a young boy who lives near the area is still missing._

Martin suddenly thought of the scratch on Morgan's cheek.

His heart sank inside him.

* * *

"She took Dan," Sarah said. It seemed all she was able to say. They had all crowded into Merlin's studio flat where Arthur was staying, looking various degrees of dishevelled. According to Jocelyn, Dan had stayed in central London after they had left and gone home for the night. Jocelyn had been worried, concerned that Morgana might be around and looking for vengeance, but Dan had shrugged off her worry, promising her he would go home soon. He had not.

"She's got Dan," Sarah said. She sipped the tea that Jocelyn had hastily made them all. "Oh my God, she's got Dan."

"Do you think she's killed him?" Turk asked grimly.

"With the power that Dan has?" Donald said. "She'd be a fool to kill him. She could use him."

Arthur curled his hands around his tea. "Surely he wouldn't help her?"

"He probably won't be given a choice," Turk said.

"Oh God," Sarah said, and clung to her teacup.

There was bleak silence, interrupted suddenly by a knock on the flat door that jerked all of them out of their thoughts and spilled more than a few cups of tea.

They stared at one another in horror. "Do you think that's…?" Jocelyn hissed.

"How can it be?" Turk whispered back. "The Professor put his own enchantments on this place, she shouldn't be able to find it at all…"

There was another knock. Arthur put down his cup. "Plus," he said, standing up, "She wouldn't knock."

He crept closer to the door, knife in his hand, feeling less confident than he looked. Sarah seized Jocelyn's hand. Arthur opened the door.

Merlin stood on the other side, eyes wide and glassy. "Hi," he said.


	7. Return

**A/N: I am back! I haven't abandoned this! This chapter was a nightmare to write but there is probably only one or two after this one, so we are nearing the end. Thank you all for being so patient and so kind and generally so damn wonderful. I really do appreciate it.**

**And yes, I burned down the print company who fired me. It felt great. Suck on that, bitches!**

**Enjoy this chapter :)**

* * *

_He crept closer to the door, knife in his hand, feeling less confident than he looked. Sarah seized Jocelyn's hand. Arthur opened the door._

_Merlin stood on the other side, eyes wide and glassy. "Hi," he said._

* * *

One day, long ago in Camelot, before Arthur died and Merlin lost his mind, the two of them went hunting. Well, it was more that Arthur was hunting and Merlin was trailing along behind, sulking and occasionally making loud noises so that prey would run away and avoid Arthur's crossbow arrows. Arthur's father was very ill at Camelot, his spirit failing after Morgana had revealed her treachery, and Arthur had been left to run the kingdom almost all by himself. He was feeling irritable and worried, and Merlin loudly complaining wasn't helping, so he had strode on ahead through the forest to avoid having a raging argument with his useless manservant that he might regret later. Merlin had dropped behind, no doubt sensing Arthur's mood, and soon Arthur had almost forgotten he was there at all, and let himself be calmed by the noises of the forest, the wind rustling the trees, the call of birds.

Then he'd heard a loud crash and a cry, sharply cut off, and he'd realised it was Merlin's voice even before he'd turned and started running back towards him. He'd found that a landslide of trees had fallen down the edge of the small ravine they had been walking along the top of, and Arthur knew without a doubt that Merlin, who attracted trouble like honey attracted flies, had been caught in it. He threw himself to the ground and looked over the ravine's edge, scanning the detritus of foliage and soil for his manservant. He'd seen Merlin almost straight away; he'd been thrown clear of the landslide and he was wearing his red shirt, so he was easily noticeable. But he was lying down, and he wasn't moving.

It was almost daft, considering the many dilemmas the two of them had faced before, but this was the moment that made Arthur's heart stop in terror. No magical beasts, or curses, or sorcerers, but a simple landslide and Merlin not moving. Arthur had been scared before, even a few times absolutely petrified, but nothing had ever quite matched this. He couldn't breathe.

And then Merlin had moved, twitching an arm and moving his head, and had said very clearly, "Ow," and relief had hit Arthur like a slap around the face, robbing him of breath for the second time but in a different way.

Seeing Merlin standing in the doorway now, thousands of years later, did exactly the same thing.

"Merlin," he said with the last of his breath.

Merlin shrugged awkwardly. "No, still Martin I'm afraid."

Arthur seized Merlin by the arms, his relief and joy tumbling over each other. "Whatever," he said. "I don't care."

Merlin smiled. "I have no idea," he said happily, "What I'm doing here."

Arthur dragged Merlin into the flat before he could change his mind.

* * *

Dan opened his eyes, and wondered for a moment if he had, because it was just as dark as when he had had his eyes shut. He sat still for a moment, wondering if his eyes would adjust to the light, but nothing seemed forthcoming. He swallowed hard.

"Turn on the light," he said out loud, marshalling some magic together in case there was anyone in the room whom he could command.

Instead of light, there came a chuckle instead. "Sorry, little warlock," said a female voice, "That doesn't work on me. And even if it did, there are no lights to turn on. Here." A pair of hands reached behind his head and tugged at something, and he felt a scrap of fabric fall from his eyes. He blinked into daylight, and into a face that was horrifyingly familiar.

Morgana smiled, a slow stretch of a smile. "Hello Dan," she said.

Dan looked wildly around him; he was in some sort of flat, the door was just behind him and he wasn't tied up, but nevertheless he didn't like his chances of escaping.

"I'm not keeping you against your will," Morgana said. Dan glanced back at her. Morgana shrugged. "I'm not," she said. "You can leave any time."

Dan set his jaw. "You snatched me from the street," he snapped. "Forgive me if I don't believe you!"

Morgana stared at him for a long moment. "I brought you here because I need you to listen to me. I have something to tell you about Merlin. You don't have to listen if you don't want to."

Dan stared at her, but he didn't move away. "Why me?" he said. "Why not any of the others?"

Morgana smiled, and it was a sad smile. "Because he hasn't been lying to them like he's been lying to you," she said.

* * *

Arthur led Merlin to a seat on the sofa. The others clustered around him.

"I don't know why I came," Merlin was babbling. "Not really. I just. I saw the article in the newspaper and - and Morgan had this scratch on her face - and I - it all just seemed to be too much of a coincidence - and are you okay?" He directed this to Arthur.

Arthur nodded and managed a smile. "Worried about Dan but relieved to see you," he said.

This did not seem to soothe Merlin. He was looking at Arthur desperately, as if trying to reaffirm that he was actually all right. "It was just," he said. "I…I had this dream…"

Arthur stared at him. Merlin blinked, then recovered himself with a little laugh. "Sorry," he said. "It's been a really weird few days."

"Are you starting to believe us?" Donald asked earnestly. "What Arthur is - what you are?"

Merlin glanced at him, looking for all the world like a small, lost child. "I don't know," he said.

Sarah stood up suddenly. "Never mind that now," she said. "What about Dan?" She was nibbling her lip worriedly.

"I can't try to locate him," Jocelyn said, running a hand through her straggly grey hair. "All my equipment was in the HQ, and it's all burned up. Without it, I'm - I'm nothing."

Sarah turned to Merlin. "Merlin, did Morgana say anything to you?"

Merlin shook his head. He was so pale, Arthur thought suddenly. Surely he had never been this pale before? "I don't think so," he said. "She just said she was going to be out late doing some modelling, that's all."

"She could be anywhere," Turk said.

Sarah let out an exasperated groan, wheeling around. "I was meant to look after everyone," she said. "If anything happened to the Prof - I mean, to _you_." She gestured helplessly at Merlin, who shrugged just as helplessly back.

Sarah dropped her arms, sitting down on the sofa. "I was meant to look after them," she said. "The Prof relied on me. And now Dan's gone and the Prof might as _well _be gone and we can't - "

She buried her face in her hands. Turk wound a comforting arm around her shoulders. Arthur and Merlin glanced at each other, but for once could find nothing to say.

* * *

"He's lied to you," Morgana said, taking a seat opposite Dan so that she could look him in the eyes. "He's lied to the others as well, I suppose, but not as much as to you. You see, you all think falsehoods about your powers. Falsehoods he has told you. You were all so grateful he took you in that you didn't question his knowledge. You accepted whatever he said about you."

Dan realised he was trembling a little. "What are you talking about?"

Morgana sat back in her chair. "I've been watching you all these past few years. Three years I've been here, watching. I know some things about you that Merlin hasn't told you. That he wouldn't tell you. Because he has power over you as you are, he keeps you where he wants you, just in case he ever needs you, in case his _precious _Arthur came back and he had to use you. He never really cared about you."

She leaned forward. Dan did not move backwards. "You remind me of someone," she said softly. "Another young boy I knew a long time ago. A young boy with a lot of power. Merlin tried to destroy him too. Well, I won't let him do that to you."

Dan stared at her. "What did you mean about the lies?" he asked.

Morgana regarded him steadily. Suddenly she didn't seem mad, she didn't seem evil. She looked at him as if he were an equal. "You have a great power," she said. "Merlin told you that you couldn't use it on people of magic. He lied."

* * *

There was something knocking on the inside of Martin's head. It was demanding attention but every time he tried to focus on it, it would slip away like water through his fingers. It was starting to give him a headache.

The time was slipping away too, so that it was evening now, and the studio flat had become cramped with so many people in it. Turk and Donald were propped up against the kitchen counters, eating their way through Martin/Merlin's food and murmuring to one another. Jocelyn was trying to calm down Sarah, who seemed torn between crying and shouting. And Arthur, oddly, was flicking through Martin/Merlin's bookshelf, occasionally pulling out a book and humming at it as if he recognised something about it.

Martin felt lost, more lost than he ever had before.

* * *

"He let your friend Turk believe that his magic could work on anyone, that he could render anyone invisible and soundless, but that is not the case - people of magic can see through his enchantments. You saw that yourself when you came to take Merlin from me," Morgana said. "And you also saw how Merlin behaved when you commanded him. He _obeyed _you."

"Yes," Dan said through gritted teeth. "Because he thought he was a normal person. Because _you _had enchanted him."

"No," Morgana said, shaking her head. "No, Dan. He obeyed you because you are powerful, perhaps even more powerful than the great Emrys himself. Anything you say must be obeyed. By _anyone_, magic or not."

Dan stared at her.

"And I need your help," said Morgana.

* * *

"There's something," Martin said, rubbing his forehead. "There's something…not…" He sighed and sat back, the thought running from him again, and realised Arthur was watching him closely from the bookshelf.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Martin shrugged, feeling ridiculous. "It's like there's something in my head," he said. "And I can't get it out - I can't - "

Arthur put the book down and held out a hand to Martin. "Come on," he said, "Let's go for a walk."

Martin stared at him.

"Morgana will be too preoccupied with Dan to go on the hunt for you just yet," Arthur said. "Come on."

He wriggled his fingers at Martin. Martin hesitated, then reach out and took his hand. He expected a rush of memories, a pull back to that strange world of castles and cloaks, but instead all he felt were the warm callused fingers of Arthur's against his. He glanced up at Arthur, to see if he was seeing something Martin was not, but Arthur's eyes were only for him, present and clear and blue as the summer sky.

"Come on, clotpole," he said, and smiled.

* * *

They made their way to the Thames in silent accord. Arthur stole quick looks at Merlin as they went, at his face as it glimmered in the lights of London, yellow under passing taxi lights, amber under streetlamps, red and blue and white under the moving, flashing adverts of Piccadilly Circus. He looked strange in the different lights, he looked out of place. Merlin's face belonged in stone corridors, in great halls, lit by candles and blazing braziers, not here in this artificial, foreign world. It was a face of long ago, not a face for these days. Arthur wondered if he looked the same.

But then, he thought, as they meandered along the Embankment by the Thames, perhaps this was just his imagination. He was so used to seeing Merlin in the context of Camelot that to see him outside of it just felt wrong. And yet…maybe that was how it needed to be now.

They stopped at Cleopatra's Needle and lingered against the railings by the Thames, looking up at the great stone obelisk and the iron, hole-riddled sphinxes that guarded it either side. A red painted statue of St George's dragon had been placed nearby, silently mocking Arthur through the darkness.

For a while, they said nothing. Merlin leaned on the railings, looking over at the Thames and all the lights that twinkled along the stretch of it. He seemed calmer than he had in the flat. And Arthur found himself looking at him, really looking at him for the first time, as Martin and not as Merlin.

Martin, kitted out in a hoodie and shabby jeans, Martin the telecom salesman, who lived with his crazy model housemate and had a sister and a mother and a father. Martin, who liked salt and vinegar crisps and arguing with people and missing work. Martin was a creation, but he was still a person. He was as real as Merlin.

"I've been a fool," Arthur said.

Martin glanced at him but said nothing, and Arthur thought it must have only been the expression on his face that had stopped Martin from making a quip.

Arthur took a deep breath and let go of the railing. "I have been single-minded and idiotic," he said. "I have been ignoring Martin for Merlin. I have…broken in to something new and just tried to destroy it, without ever attempting to understand it. I vanished for years and then I just came back and tried to make things like they were, but they will never be so. Even if you were still Merlin, we would never be the same Arthur and Merlin. And I've been acting like a selfish, royal child, stamping my foot and demanding Merlin back. But maybe I shouldn't have been doing that at all. Maybe I should have been accepting Martin. Understanding Martin. Listening to Martin."

He stopped for breath. Martin was staring at him with wide, blue eyes, and Arthur felt suddenly bereft. "It's all gone," he said. "Everything. Camelot…you. You are gone, Merlin." His voice cracked. "I am sorry. I did not see."

"Arthur," Martin said softly.

Arthur shook his head. "No," he said. "I should end this. I should accept Martin. And if I am going to…then I should leave you alone."

Martin looked stricken. "No!" he said. "Wait, you can't, not when I'm starting to believe - "

"That's just it, maybe you _shouldn't_," Arthur said desperately. "Maybe you need to just forget." He stopped, took in a quick breath. "That world is gone," he said. "This world has replaced it. Arthur and Merlin cannot exist where they do not belong. They have had their time. And they should part ways now."

Martin stared at him, eyes glassy. He was clinging to the railing as if he were drowning, as if he were in the Thames rather than on the other side of it. "You _can't_," he said. "You can't leave me!"

Arthur bit his lip. "It's better this way."

Martin's expression started to crumble. "Arthur - " he said, and took a step towards him.

Arthur froze. "I can't."

"No," begged Martin. "No, you - "

"Just - " Arthur unfroze and stepped forward as well, until they were particularly nose to nose.

They stared at each other through the white and blue lights of London.

"Please don't go," Martin said.

"One last thing." Arthur cupped his cheek with one gentle hand, felt Martin's cheekbones press against his palm.

"Stay with me," Martin whispered, and then Arthur kissed him.

He'd wanted to kiss Merlin when he'd been dying, but there hadn't been any time and he hadn't had enough breath left in him. In the end, he decided that saying 'thank you' seemed more important than saying 'I love you'. He had often regretted his choice later on. So he had shouted it across to Merlin in the early days of being stuck on that island, in the desperate hope that Merlin might hear something, sense something. But Merlin had never reacted, not once. And then he'd just stopped visiting and Arthur gave up.

At least, he thought, as firm lips met firm lips, he got to say it now.

It was a warm kiss, a steady kiss, but not without its hint of loneliness and desperation. It was a goodbye kiss, everything Arthur had felt for so long, poured into one single, sad gesture.

It was halfway through the kiss when something changed. Nothing recognisable, nothing tangible. Martin just turned his head slightly, his hands grasping Arthur's shoulders, and Arthur was hit with a such a surge of _familiarity _that his knees almost buckled underneath him.

_Familiar_. Suddenly Martin seemed more familiar to Arthur than he had ever felt during this whole debacle.

So familiar that it was no longer a kiss goodbye but a call home.

He was calling Merlin home.

He broke the kiss. The lights of London were still there, and the whispering Thames, and the faded stone obelisk, and yet something had changed.

He stared at Martin, then realised he was no longer looking at Martin at all.

"Merlin?" he murmured.

Merlin smiled at him, that old smile from very long ago. "Hi," he said.

Arthur didn't need to ask any more questions. This was Merlin, as surely as the man previously standing before him had been Martin. It was Merlin's warmth against him, and Merlin's scent, and Merlin's eyes, Merlin's smile.

He tugged Merlin closer and wound his arms more securely around his back and buried his face in his shoulder. Merlin smelled like Camelot, he smelled like home. "Oh God," said Arthur, and couldn't say any more.

Merlin started shaking, tightened his grip on his shoulders and choked out Arthur's name and then clung on hard, as if Arthur had just saved him from drowning. "Arthur," he said. And then again, as if he couldn't believe it, "Arthur." Hiccupping and stuttering his way through the syllables, but not stopping. "Arthur," he repeated endlessly. "My Arthur. _My Arthur_."

* * *

They loosened their hold on each other after a while, but didn't let go. Arthur rested his chin on Merlin's head and looked at the lights reflected in the Thames, and blinked until his vision stopped blurring. Merlin's hands were stroking steady, warm patterns along his back and he was murmuring a faint tune, though Arthur wasn't sure whether he realised he was doing it or not.

"How did that work?" he asked finally, and was proud to hear his voice did not crack.

Merlin shook his head against Arthur's chest. "I'm a regular sleeping beauty," he said dryly.

Arthur frowned. "A what?"

"Never mind." Merlin let go of Arthur and straightened up, and they stood and regarded each other for a moment, with stupid smiles on their faces.

"We've got to go back," Merlin said. "I've remembered what I was trying to remember before. I know how to save Dan. But we have to go back to the others now." He hesitated. "If you'll come with me."

Arthur hesitated as well. "Where's Martin?" he asked. "Is he gone?"

Merlin shook his head. "He's in here," he said, tapping at his temple. "I can remember his life, everything. But it never existed. It feels…odd. To have a life that never existed."

Arthur nodded. "And you…remember everything?"

Merlin grinned. "I remember that you're a clotpole and a prat and a cabbage head, and all sorts of things, idiot. Now we really need to go."

He moved to take Arthur's hand. Arthur flinched back. "So you remember," he said, his voice cracking again. "Why you abandoned me?"

Merlin froze, and stared at him.

"I saw it," Arthur said, and now his voice was just hoarse and pained. "I was standing on that island, Merlin, and I was awake, and I saw all of it. All the years passing by, and you barely came to see me one in a hundred. Why?"

Merlin was looking like Arthur had slapped him. "I can't," he croaked, and then stopped. "Arthur," he said, clearing his throat, "Please. Can we talk about this later? We need to save Dan."

Arthur sighed. "How?"

Merlin grabbed his arm and led him away from Cleopatra's Needle. "Jocelyn," he said.


End file.
